The Lion's Roar
by noshitkatpiss
Summary: Aurora breaks off from the rest of the group and Hook is sent to rescue her, with complications that lead both of them on an unexpected adventure. Bit of a Tangled/Stardust AU adventure romance.
1. To The Rescue

Normally, Aurora had loved the forest. Loved the way the light flickered in the trees and changed the colour of the flowers so they gleamed like jewels, the way the moss felt when you touched it. It was a place of refuge, but now the forest had turned gloomy and scary and mean. She had been wondering the same paths for around a century and coming to the same well, she picked up a rock from the ground and threw it, cursing the world, cursing her long impractical dress and cursing whoever was bewitching the paths to swerve and twist and turn yet always end up going in the same direction. Dawn was nearing, _dawn. _And she still hadn't found her way out of this cursed place. Surveying the ground around her, she decided that this really was a good a place as any to stay the night, well... morning. She lowered the bucket into the well until she heard a faint 'plop' and then started dragging it up again. As if she didn't have any survival skills. She had _plenty _of survival skills, and many more, but I guess nobody was interested as long as you don't act mean all the time. She was done with it all. Yes, she was done and finished with all of them. She was going to drink some water, then maybe eat whatever she found and then sleep (_she'd manage somehow)_ and then find her way out of this damned place by morning. Pleased with this plan, she smiled a little to herself. She lifted the bucket to her lips and tilted her head back. Thirst was always overcoming her, she didn't know why, but she was always thirsty.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you."

The bucket fell as she turned around startled to face the source of the voice. It fell on her foot, bruising it, and she feel over clumsily.

"Didn't mean to startle you... princess"

It was Hook. Of course it was Hook, she didn't know anyone else who's words always sounded so playful, like a purring cat and so silky, but yet there was an abrupt feel to it, a hint, a taste of adventure. _It's just a voice _she told herself. Yet she couldn't deny that it was a very _specific_ voice.

"What are _you _doing here?" she asked with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Saving the damsel in distress of course" he replied, leaning against a tree, looking a mocking gleam in his eye.

She wasn't in the mood to coin a witty reply, so the only thing that remained was to pick herself up and compose herself. Fumbling, she tried to repair her foot somehow and put the bucket where it belonged, tried to clean her dress but of course it was only covered in water. That's when she remembered that she was actually angry with them all.

"It's only water, why aren't I allowed to drink it?!" she requested adamantly.

"Because, princess, it's poisoned." he replied, and she could taste the mockery in his tone.

"Because, princess, it's poisoned!" she mimicked him. She was finished with all of them, finished with their arrogance and their condescension and their always thinking what was right and what was better. She was tired of being treated like a child around them constantly, while they behaved no more than as children would.

"Why don't you treat me like Emma?" the question escaped her lips before she could stop it. Oh God no. The thing she had hoped to steer well clear of. And now he'd think her stupid and foolish.

But he didn't treat her like a child. He laughed, but it was the kind of laugh she felt she could share. He wasn't laughing at her, or maybe he was, but it definitely wasn't a cruel laugh, funnily the one at which he excelled at.

"Such a princess..." he whispered to himself.

"I heard that!" she said. She was angry with them still but maybe not him so much. After all... no he was just as guilty. Whatever she had thought of him before must stay in the past. Hadn't he proved that he was just as arrogant as the rest of them?

"Emma and the rest sent me to find you... though Snow was reluctant. Said I'd... what was it? Oh yes," he smiled to himself with mock remembrance "lead you on a stray path."

"I thought I made it pretty clear I was leaving. Also, _captain, _I'd like you to note that I'm not that easily led on a stray path, whatever you may think of me."

"And what exactly _do_ I think of you?" he said, coking his head.

"You think I'm immature and whimsy and prissy" she said, the words tumbling out of her.

He met the words with a silence. She couldn't quite read his face; it wasn't sad yet neither was it happy. It seemed like he'd always been used to women concealing their feelings and maybe her confession had puzzled him somewhat. No, she told herself, she was reading into it too much.

The forest darkened; dawn was coming, but before it came the darkness would deepen and the air would get cold and clear, and the stars would shine with such a brilliant light that magic could ever quite match. They both shivered as it set in; they had not noticed it approaching as they bickered. She noticed the water in the well frost over, and now reluctantly she joined him where he was standing; it was useless to stand at the crossroads at the frozen well and sit on the hard ground when the moss was just there. She walked over and sat down, pulling her cape tighter, trying to keep warm, but she could not help the blueness creeping up on her lips. Hook, also tired of standing, sat down next to her, leaning on the tree still and stretching out his long leather clad legs and yawning. They sat there for a few minutes in silence, both of them hating that they hadn't been stubborn enough to stay where they were. Finally though, they got too cold and too tired to think, and both their minds attained a light quality; one where they just looked at the stars and breathed in the air, and everything was peaceful. Aurora shivered and wrapped her cape around her tighter, rubbing her hands together for warmth.

"I have something that could keep you warm... princess"

Aurora was taken aback by this. Did he mean his coat? Hook smiled mischievously as his hand went into his pocket. From it, he produced a leather bottle, drinking glass, she couldn't remember the word... those things you drink out of.

"Ah, so you finally have some water, and you tell me now. Not like I was thirsty before"

"I said it was specifically to keep you warm."

"Is it a potion?"

"Of sorts"

"Of sorts?"

"It's a rather wonderful little concoction" Hook said, opening the cork with his teeth, as his hands were too stiff "called rum. Not sure whether a princess such as yourself has ever tasted such a vulgar drink." He handed her the bottle, leaned back and smiled.

"Vulgar?" she had never heard a drink described that before. "I'm pretty sure I can handle it" She took a swing, and though the liquid tasted fiery, she liked it. It filled her up, and increased her lightness, made the forest warmer, friendlier, made the man in front of her seem like less of a mocking vagabond. She took another good swing, and handed the bottle back to him with a smug smile. She was a princess and she was a woman. And she could handle a little drink.

"Well, well..." Hook drifted off, and took a little swing himself, before corking the bottle. "Who knew, princess? I was sure your lips couldn't take anything stronger than mulled wine."

"My lips can take a lot, thank you" this conversation had turned too uncomfortable for her liking, so she decided to change the topic. "Call me Aurora"

Hook frowned with mock disappointment "As you wish... princess"

"I'm serious..." Aurora felt herself lean against the tree and closing her eyes. She hadn't realised how badly she needed sleep.

"Goodnight princess" she heard Hook's voice as she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. She didn't know why but she was sure she would have no nightmares that night


	2. Roadtrip

When she woke she was cold, the dew had settled in her hair and her dress, and her face was practically blue with cold. At first it took a bit of will and time to move; she had wanted to stay up curled on the moss forever and her limbs felt stiff. Hook was sleeping next to her, anything but graceful. He was sprawled on the bit of flat, comfortable ground they had managed to settle on, and now Aurora noticed that he was closer to her than he had been when they fell asleep. But it was probably just a... side effect or something. Why was she thinking about that anyway? She damped her hand on the dew covered moss and in an attempt to wake herself up washed her face with the ice cold water. She was really desperate for water; the rum was good, she had to admit, but it didn't exactly quench her thirst. In the still, cold, serene forest she made out a bubbling noise. It was so quiet that it was barely audible. Wrapping her shawl around her tightly, if that was even possible, she went to investigate, finding a tiny stream a few feet away from them. They would need to getting up now if they were to find the others. Not that she wanted to find the others. Not waking him up would be more useful; but she had tried to find her way out the forest and in every try she failed miserably. She would simply just find her way out with him, thank him, and they would both go their separate ways. Yes. Good. Getting the bucket from the well, steering clear of the poison, she went to the stream, rinsed it out, filled it with fresh, ice cold water and went over the sleeping Captain. With little ceremony, she simply tipped the bucket, over his smiling, sleeping face (this was the way she felt when the curse was broken, or when she had awoken from yet another nightmare). It's how she felt everyone (with the exception of Snow) treated her. "Wake up, Captain! We've got to be... hoisting the sail." Okay, maybe her pirate talk wasn't up to notch, but he did seem alarmed. A bit too much in fact. "It burns! What are you doing, stop stop, you're using the poisoned water! you psycho, you b-" Maybe she should have investigated the stream more. But it had seemed like water, and nothing had happened to her hand when she dipped in. Still. Maybe she was killing the Captain. My God, maybe she had burned his face. "Im sorry!" she cried. It would have been more helpful to actually do something but she had no idea what, so she dropped on her knees and tried to look at signs of damage on his face, while crying and apologizing to him. "I'm so sorry... I had no idea... are you okay?" He was still moaning and groaning and cursing her and she began to feel even more desperate. She had killed Hook, and now there would be no Captain or a way out... I mean no Captain. Her breath became uneven, she started shaking and she lowered her head on this man that she had hardly ever got a chance to know. It was always men and the forest, wasn't it? Suddenly a strong hand grabbed her neck and she found herself looking at a pair of gleaming black eyes. Hook's lips turned at the corners, widening and widening in a full grin. He raised his eyebrows. "Good morning... Princess." he smiled and winked "What an unladylike gesture that was! (_his mocking scorn was almost killing her) _ I really see a downgrade of your morals. Soaking a poor defenseless man."

"You weren't defenseless, you know that very well." she said looking straight into his eyes with defiance. "You have a weapon for a hand."

"Too bad I don't have both hands..."

"And if you did?" she didn't want to break this close conversation just now. To be honest, she was enjoying herself immensely. For once they weren't discussing trolls or her nightmares or how she was unsuitable to do anything.

"That is too much, I fear, for the ears of a princess."

"A princess who made you think you were drowning."

"A princess who doesn't know people very well."

"A princess who knows people well enough to see that you... are lying."

"Well then maybe the princess would give the... distraught man, a little something to warm him up."

"I hope you don't mean a kiss. A princess must not stoop so low as to entertain pirates."

She knew that she had won their little squabble, she withdrew from his grasp and picked up the bucket, smiling at him scornfully just as he had smiled at her, and went to collect firewood and some water. Maybe they could cook some leaves, or a frog. She'd take anything, she was as hungry as hell. She left Hook lying on the floor laughing, and she herself laughed as she went towards the stream. "That hurt!" Hook shouted at her in mock outrage. "In addition a kiss was _never_ mentioned. So the mere idea that I would ask a princess something like that is really just your true colours showing... princess." She didn't reply to that, and just laughed. She felt so relieved, relaxed. She hadn't felt like that in a long time.

They made breakfast, although it didn't exactly go the way that she had planned. For one there had been no fire. Hook said fires were to be used in the most dire circumstances, like dinner. Personally he didn't care for breakfast, which hurt Aurora quite a lot.

"How can you hate breakfast food?!" she enquired rather aggressively when he'd mentioned it in an offhand remark. "Breakfast food is like... a rainbow!" Well, the breakfast she was used to. She described it to him in great detail.

"...and you see we have these things called waffles and sometimes I put marmalade in them, oh and cheese toasties!"

"Is it not sort of not princely to talk about food?" he asked, the corners of his lips curling slightly.

"You're right. I was never allowed to eat more than one waffle, because of corsets and things like that." At this she blushed a little; she had never talked about corsets with Phillip. Maybe it was okay if Hook was a low born. She glanced at him to see what sort of effect the corset remark would have, but he was eating his apple like nothing had happened. He did raise an eyebrow, but she though she'd let it pass. They continued this rather inappropriate conversation, talking about the weirdness of Snow and Emma's clothes. "You can see their legs!" Aurora shared her before unvoiced outrage with Hook. He did not seem that outraged as she, or even outraged at all, which was to be expected, she'd seen his eyes and the way they'd always surveyed all of them, or any women. Never looking at her like that way, no. She quickly shook the thought away. The continued to talk, and Hook even chipped in a comment or two about the exotic food he'd tasted in other lands. "They eat raw fish?" Aurora was outraged, and decided that she would keep to her diet for now. "You should see the things they serve in Westeros... if they serve anything at all. Delicious wine..." Hook carried on, transporting her into a world she had never heard of, or even dreamed.

After a rather malnourishing breakfast of rum ("A princess shouldn't drink, especially in the morning") and some apples, they set of to find the woods. Hook assured her that she had been stupid, he would find their way out in no time. He had a compass, which he took out and surveyed it with an important look on his face. Aurora studied his face with interest; not so much at him but at herself. At the beginning, when she'd first seen him and thought he was telling the truth he was more approachable, less scary and something in his eyes beckoned her to him. And then after a while she realized that in reality he was actually a bastard, a vagabond, someone who meant no good. And promptly she realized that she wasn't so scared of him anymore, the fear had been replaced with curiosity. And she was almost sure his plan would fail, but when he beckoned her to walk faster, cursing the existence of that long, unpractical dress, she only raised her eyebrows and followed him. He wouldn't believe her now; she'd wait until the opportune moment to tell him he was wrong and let the sweet and sour taste of revenge unfurl in her mouth as she made him look a fool. "I suppose you'd like it if I wore what Snow wore, or Emma?" she shouted after him, a little amused at his growing rage.

"Well, yes actually!" he shouted back and looked over his shoulder at her. "For one thing, we'd move faster!"

"Ah, well, _captain, _that's unfortunate." she spoke, looking him in the eyes, which she never had dared before. Maybe it was because he was intimidating, or maybe it was just because she was intimidated. His gaze was searching, revealing, it revealed and spoke so much that it was better to avoid. Her eyes met his, with a matching gaze; mocking and slightly curious, searching for something. "because," she carried on, "we'll end up in the same place anyhow, my dress having nothing to do with it."

"The compass never fails" he spoke with authority.

"Again, unfortunate, that it seems to be failing now. Because I'm sure that I've seen this tree." She caught up with him now. "And, in my dress is a _bother._" she made sure to accentuate the word and look pointedly at his compass, "then maybe we should stop and do something about it."

Hook stopped and looked at her, raising his eyebrow. "Well, well, well _princess, _are you insinuating what I think you're insinuating?" he paused for a while, surveying her with that _gaze, _a slight smirk on his face. "If you insist..."

"I'm afraid that's _not _what i had in mind" she said, rebutting his gaze with her own.

"Ahh.." he trailed off, mock disappointment in his voice.

"Give me your knife." she ordered, sitting down on a nearby rock. "If we are to be traveling now, I'll need to suit myself.

"Princess," he said, taking his knife out "You certainly are unpredictable"

The knife fell on the ground near her, she picked it up swiftly, and with a few sharp movements cutting off the bottom of her dress, so that now the hem was starting to be above her ankles, not trailing on the floor.

"Impressive knife skills, princess, but do you, ermm... need any help with that?" he said playfully, looking down on her. She looked up to his gaze. "I personally don't know what you have against showing legs." he said, surveying her purple tights. Aurora kept quiet as she kept chopping off chunks of the dress, tongue stuck out, like a small child. The knife went in, swiftly and then she would hear the fabric rip. Voila! "Surprised by my knife skills? I have many more to-" she cut off, feeling the metal burrowing into her flesh. "Ouch!"

It was a small wound, but her finger was bleeding quite a lot. Hook's smile changed into a sign of worry and he knelt beside her, taking her hand into his. She was angry at herself, angry at him, angry at the knife. Her good hand went to his and slapped it. "Leave me alone!" she cried. Did he think she could do nothing right? "I can bandage it myself, thank you. It's fine."

"That hurt, princess-" Hook was ready to fake outrage again, but at Aurora's face he stopped mid sentence. It had to be admitted that she looked ready to do anything, plus she had a knife in her hand. She stared at him, and he sat quietly beside her, curing her and his hand, looking at the compass, pretending to be figuring out their way home. Meanwhile, she was taking scraps of fabric and bandaging her hand, head down. From underneath her brown curls he heard muffled sobs emerging. "Is this how you hurt yourself?" he enquired "Is this how you fell asleep?" Silence. Then the mass of curls nodded. "Im sorry," she whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Hook said, his voice suddenly acquiring a tone of gentleness. "I've seen what the curse can do to people."

They sat in silence, until she had finished bandaging her hand. Then she just sat there, trying to control her sobs. "Are you sure you don't want me to help, Princess?" Hook said again.

"Okay..." she hesitated. He set to work, cutting off bits of the dress, until it was above ankle length and comfortable to walk around in. He finished, gave her the pieces of fabric and helped her up. She gave him a half hearted smile, and he responded.

"Are you sure you don't want to change compleatly?" he said, playfully again, and seeing her gaze, changed his tone. "I mean into clothes like Emma and Mulan wear. Practical clothes like warriors."

"Nope," she said defiantly. "This is practical for me. I can walk can't I? And I'm actually very attached to this dress, if you'd believe it." She tied her hair up with the pieces of scrap fabric. They set off, trying to figure out the endless maze that the forest was. And they were walking together now, not behind each other.


	3. The Problem Solvers

Growing weary with exhaustion, the pirate and the princess roamed around the woods, Aurora begging him to listen to reason as Hook, who grew more angry and he grew doubtful of himself, kept repeating "What would you know of forests, Princess?"

"I…" she sighed heavily, making an effort to step over the next branch. "I know a lot more than you think!"

"Huh." He said non- commitedly. However she did not, or chose not to see the tone of boredom in his voice.

"My father had a forest." Another pause to breathe. "Around… a hundred leagues. Tress grew taller than here, and it was filled with wonderful things. Lakes and wildflowers and beasts."

"And let me guess, Princess," Hook said, committed to bringing her down, now that it had started to become more and more obvious that she was right, and they should stop. "You never went more than a mile away from the castle and you were always chaperoned in any case."

"No!" she said, insulted. A minuscule pause. "Well maybe there's a little bit of truth in that."

She carried on. "I longed to see more though. I studied a lot of maps and books."

"Books!" Killian Jones exclaimed dramatically, to highlight as much as he could her naivety. "You," he said turning around "need to learn a lot more about the real world, love."

He grew more and more angered and the sun shining with impeccable strength through the canopy above did not help matters. He'd been drinking the remains of the rum to get him through this cursed journey, and walking was a bit… harder. More importantly leather and heat did not go well together, he'd been witness to that a dozen times, but he'd rather die of heat than take it off. The leather, he always told himself, was the money maker, which always allowed him, without fail, to charm anyone. Always cautious to not appear outwardly vain, secretly Killian Jones admitted a lot more virtues of character and of aesthetic beauty than he liked to admit, in front of an audience. Sometimes he wondered wether a fairy had given him his looks, and concluded that if this was true, he was to use them at all times.

Behind him, Aurora did not seem charmed. After seeing, as she said "the same damned rock for the fith time." She began cursing Hook, cursing this forest and cursing the rocks even. It was all very entertaining, and he could not help but snigger and turn around at every instance and comment "Well, _that's_ not very ladylike, Princess." The sixth time he said this he heard another curse, and a rock being thrown at his head.

"Fucking hell!"

"That's not very ladylike princess." The princess mimicked him and laughed triumphantly.

Hook grew even more annoyed, as he sat on a patch of moss nearby to nurse his neck.

"You forget who you are, Princess." He began his speech. "I'm not like those pirates you read about in your books. I am not whimsical and I am not nice." He was really into it now. He looked at her with his eyes, which he knew were menacing at the best of times, and that it was easy to get lost. Well let her get lost and scared, he thought.

"I am a pirate." he said, pausing for effect "I have seen the seven seas, I know no fear." Keep up the menace, he told himself. "You think you know who pirates are? You've read your books and you think it's just a little charming adventure. Well it's pillaging and murder and getting thrown overboard. I tame my character to match the sea, and the sea is merciless."

He finished the speech, pausing for effect again, giving him his most (in his opinion) merciless look. But to him dismay the princess only stared back into his eyes with her ocean blue ones defiantly, and slowly raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, laughing.

"And what'll you do, Captain, skin me alive?" she continued, sitting behind him, barely able to control her laughter.

"Shut up."

"I apologise, Captain." Her voice oozing sarcasm. "Did I do you a grave harm by hurting you?" she conned, appearing to be enjoying herself immensely. "I didn't realise that such a fierce pirate, who has seen the seven seas and the thirteen ocean, to be sure, not to mention even the wild lands, would be hurt by a little tap."

"You bloody well might have killed me!"

Again that perfectly arched eyebrow. "And that arm scratch didn't?" she said, pointedly looking at his hook. She turned around flinching around his neck, until she found the weak spot.

"Aww, what are you doing?"

"Tending to the wound, of course."

"Well, you're not tending to it right. Do you realise the un-fixable damage that would have caused if it had been in the front of my face?" Hook shuddered at the thought.

"Probably would have improved it."

Her fingers trailed softly behind his neck, coming across a little trickle of blood, nothing serious. He felt something, a little shock of heat, of electricity travelling down his spine, at the touch of her silk soft hands. He'd made a lot of women feel this way, he thought, but never had he himself…. _nope, nope, we are not going there_, he said to himself firmly. As her swift fingers picked apart the wound he could feel something stirring inside him. Like a concoction, like he'd drunk too much rum (but then he'd always drunk too much at any given point in time) but it was a pleasant kind of drunk, warm and tipsy. His hand travelled to meet hers. "Why, princess." He said in his most seductive voice. "I almost wish the wound had been bigger because your touch is… intoxicating."

He wasn't exactly sure why he'd decided to turn on the charm, but something told him it was the head wound coupled with the heat and rum. He found his second hand going backwards onto his neck, meeting hers and feeling that wonderful soft touch. Hers didn't resist.

"Truth be told Princess… I didn't stop because you very so unkindly hit me with a rock." His hands brought hers forward, admiring their dainty little structure. "I stopped, because it's so nice and shady, and there it's all hot and the rum is gone."

She seemed only to hear a part of what he said. "The rum's gone? Why's the rum gone?" she froze abruptly, suddenly tightening her grip on him, her fingernails digging into his, neither of them filching.

"Because, my darling, I have drank it. To lighten the load."

She scowled. Suddenly, he turned himself to face her, their lips inches apart. She wasn't resisting. He stared into her eyes, blue and cool as the ocean. He found he missed it. "And the mixture caused by me hating this cursed forest, the rum being gone and and the bloody battle wound you gave me…" he saw her lips inch closer, her eyelids droop halfway "has made me rather confused and forced me to take leave of my senses." He whispered the last sentence, closing his eyes and inching towards her lips. He could see nothing, but only hear the soft chirping of the birds above, as he rested his hand on her neck (so exquisitely soft). Her hair brushed his cheek. She smelt of pomegranate and wildflowers. An unlikely concoction. He could feel her breath on his neck, he could almost taste her lips as they met, the scent of her becoming stronger as it became more intoxicating when...

"Cursed!" Aurora said almost inaudibly turning her head with the sudden discovery and suddenly the whole charm was popped, broken. "Cursed!" she repeated loudly. Hook's enchantment was gone. He felt as if she'd cut his throat and dumped him in an ice cold ocean. "What love?" he angrily, trying his best to conceal it.

"That's it! It's cursed!" she said, sitting very still. "We've been saying it all along, but none of us actually stopped to consider the possibility that it could be…" she trailed off, mesmerised by her own thoughts.

"Cursed?" Hook finished off for her playfully.

"Yes…" she said, elongating the word like a purring cat. "This is the forest I read about in my books. It's real!"

"Whoope." he muttered.

"According to the legend, book, what you will, the Dark One enchanted the forest, so it's like a living maze, see? Except you don't know it's a maze so once you're lost, you're well and truly lost. I thought I recognised the signs. The sun is too hot for a land not even so far south. And the sunsets. The sunsets have been out of time, too short then too long, the intervals don't make sense. Well?" she looked at him, happy and exasperated at her discovery at the same time.

"That's absolutely fabulous, Princess." He cooed. "But it does not give us a way of returning,does it?"

She did not have the answer, and she did not feel the need to acknowledge it to Hook. Instead, she stared at the sky in musing, concentrating all her wits on finding an answer. He did so too, but admittedly his attentions strayed in the direction of the last passing five minutes, and anger at losing such an opportunity. He'd just wanted a taste. She'd been right, damn her, and the sun was setting hastily, the forest suddenly growing cold and dark, irregular and unnatural. The tress were dancing with the howling wind, which bought a chill over both of them. He was weary of the forest, weary of the princess, weary of trying to find an answer that he was sure was lost. He lay on the moss, stretching his arms out behind his head nonchalantly and watched with calmness the dark sky gather around him. After the unbearable heat, the onslaught of the cold was quite welcoming. He closed his eyes.

"So, Princess, I'll take a well deserved nap right here. And you can continue solving the riddle of the nature of our escape like you have so marvellously done up to this point."

"Hmm?" she asked, still half musing, averting her gaze from the sky overhead to look at Hook comfortably trying to get to sleep on the ground.

"Oh no!" she shouted, giving him a slight nudge that some might brand a kick.

"Aww, again?! You really do learn nothing, do you princess? What about the whole pirate speech? Did that have no effect on you? Maybe I'll have to find other ways to teach you." He sniggered to himself and promptly went back to sleep. Or at least tried to.

"No. You. Don't." She said, picking up a nearby branch and hitting him with every word.

"Watch yourself!"

"You're getting up." She insisted dragging his limp arm.

"No use trying." He complained. "We're not solving it."

"Yes. We. Are." She insisted. "Or I can."

"Yes you do that, darling" he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

She huffed and puffed, but it was obvious from the very start that she was not going to win over him in a contest of strength. After all, he was twice her size. She returned to her previous seat, gazing at the stars above them. "I have half a mind to leave without you."

"And yet you don't. Must be my inexplicable charm." He laughed. She did not even credit him with a response. The wind grew tired and the stars emerged to adorn the sky, twinkling like icicles on this icy night, the stream that had been there all along was babbling away, lulling him to sleep. It seemed to be playing a symphony, cascading into waterfalls around them. The babbling water, the trickling water, all rhythms of nature complimenting each other reminded him of the sea. Yes, the sea was merciless, but in it was contained an unexplained and unfathomable beauty, beauty one could not resist. Beauty, charm and rage, all at once. He closed his eyes, the stars twinkling above him, the water singing a soft lullaby. He couldn't have been asleep for more than half an hour, for when he woke the night was as pitch black as ever. He felt the ground around him, disoriented. Aurora was gone.


	4. Deception

He felt the damp freezing air around him. What had that treacherous girl done now? He tried to look around him, but in vein. The forest was pitch black, and he could not tell where he ended and the darkness began. The stars were shining , laughing at him in the sky above, yet they did not provide any light. There was no moon in the sky. One of his senses compleatly disabled, he limped from tree to tree, in a vain hope of finding her.

"Aurora!"

Silence. So she wasn't here.

"Aurora!" he tried louder.

Silence.

He might have known this would happen. The stupid girl would get herself in trouble and he would be the one to sort it out. But, he thought to himself, why would he exactly have to be the one to sort it out? He owed no allegiance to her. He could, as a matter of fact, just leave right now. Find Cora. But then, Cora didn't take failure well and he didn't have the compass. And a Princess is always useful leverage, even if it's a Princess without a kingdom, Killian thought. And with this half explanation of why he was searching for her, he wondered the woods in what seemed to be useless circles, calling her name.

"Aurora!"

The woods howled and the little stream hummed a distant song.

"Aurora!"

Nothing. A grave silence.

Killian Jones could not see, and looking for a Princess without his sight would be quite inconvenient, he decided. Resolved to look for her as soon as morning came (but would it be too late?) he tried to find his own comfortable spot of moss. After all, she'd said that the forest was enchanted, and if there was no way out that neither he or her could think of, Hook was gleefully sure that there was indeed no way out. But a sense of fear still lingered, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Hobbling to where he thought the spot was, he heard the water again, singing. It reminded him of the Jolly Roger and water and mermaids, a world he'd left but had never forgotten. Storybrooke was sure not to have any of that, and who was to say that after he come to Storybrooke he'd leave again. Still the water was whispering, falling and tumbling to a undecipherable tune. The whole forest seemed to be up in a symphony, a sweet dream, a lullaby. The water a combination of high pitched cymbals and harp, and a sort of lulling voice that was earthly and yet magical at the same time. Drawn to it, Captain Hook followed its tune through the thick trees and bushes, only to find himself at the small stream that Aurora had used to quench their thirst only a few hours ago. In the starlight the water had gained an ethereal quality, seemed as heavy as pure silver, flowed like honey, reflecting with mirror precision Killian Jones' own face in its surface. As he stood there admiring this miracle of nature (both his own face as well as the water, for he took his face to have an ethereal quality too) he noticed that the stream was shining, and was in fact the only source of light in this curse'd forest. Trying to follow it was as good a chance as any of finding that wretched girl. And so he set off, walking in the dim light that the stream provided. It did not only show his face, but countless others, with sad, lifeless eyes. Killian Jones did not like tragedies he could not avoid usually, so he turned his face away, to face the dark space that filled the forest, seeming to be containing everything and nothing at the same time. The stream branched out into a bigger river, still with those same eerie faces under the surface. The symphony was growing louder in a crescendo, with every branch the river becoming bigger, until it was impossible to jump to the other side. The water tumbled and fizzed as if in a storm, yet there was none in this calm, dark, cool forest. It fizzed and grew angrier, the humming music grew louder and more punctuating, growing louder, louder, angrier, angrier until it suddenly stopped.

Killian Jones looked around and found that he was on a riverbank, the river cascading in a waterfall into a lake that seemed so still, so calm, it was almost eerie to look at. It flourished in a wonderful burst of light, almost blinding him with it. The trees all surrounded the lake, each bending over it, their leaves and branches touching the outside of the perfect surface, in which you could see perfectly and clearly mirrored the sky and stars and comets above. On a rock beside the lake a purple cloaked figure was sitting perfectly still. Aurora. He jumped from the rock to find himself on the bank. She turned around and smiled, not the shy or mocking smile she'd always graced him with, but a more sensual and gratifying one. "Princess," he said, smiling back. "Where in the goddamn hell have you been?"

She said nothing, smiling back with that same vulgarity, approaching him slowly. He noticed that her whole cloak was wet, as well as her hair, sticking to her body, which filled him with more yearning. Her dress was loosely unfastened, exposing her neck and a bit of her bosom, with that silk soft skin that he yearned to touch glowing in the starlight. She came over to him, and put those soft, exquisite hands on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Her eyes started deep into his, blue as the ocean, cool and calculating. Then she kissed him. Their lips met, and it was a wonderful, rum like sensation. Their bodies were pressed together in an embrace so tight, urging him on, her lips pressed to his, kissing him hard without ado, both of them needing more and more and more. His hand grabbed her hair, willing to posses all of her, and from her lips escaped a moan, and she was whispering "Oh yes, Captain." as his hand travelled down her back, feeling the warmth and softness of her. But she was not warm and soft. Her whole body was cold, her lips cool, yet she did not seem thrown off. The song of the stream was becoming more clear in his head now, more defined, louder.

_My heart is pierced by cupid_

_I distain from glittering gold..._

Her legs were wrapping around him, and the taste of her was so drunken, so gratifying that he could not stop. He was not doing anything, it was all the princess, all the princess, willing to please him, willing to be pleased by him, moaning at the taste of his flash, quivering at the feel of his hand against her back. It was some sort of spell she'd cast upon him, and he did not care. He did not care he was holding a Princess, and thirsting for her. He was walking backwards into the lake, the water now up to his waist, and she was still kissing him, cold and lust filled, greedy kisses down his neck, kisses that made his spine shiver.

_There is nothing that can console me_

_But my jolly sailor bold_

His hand pressed up to her bosom, feeling again for warmth finding none, but being too drunken with lust to care. He kissed her neck now, long, lingering kisses down her neck down to her breasts, hearing the soft moans of "Captain..." that only egged him on, willed him to push the boundaries, to see how vulgar she just could be, this perfect princess, just how many "Oh Captain...'s" she would utter. He wanted to taste more, and with each sip he grew more thirsty. The water was up to his chest. The voices in the water seemed with every embrace to become clearer and more piercing, sinister.

_My heart is pierced by cupid_

_I distain from glittering gold _

_There is nothing that can console me_

_But my jolly sailor bold_

With each phrase the music seemed to swell in a never ending crescendo. He felt himself losing his ground, the water swallowing him whole.

"Killian..."

The voice seemed distant, muffled and somehow from behind him.

"Killian... Killian... Jones"

The other voice, warm yet not magical, not so sinister like the water singers was far away, so muffled that he could hardly make out what it was saying. The Princess was pulling him into the water, her hand slithering down his torso, her lips nibbling his enticingly. And then a sharp pain in the back of his head and darkness. He could only hear the muffled voice, now startlingly clear, raised in a hellish shriek: "Killian Jones!"

"Wake up, sweetheart."

He woke to Aurora slapping him in the face and uttering the phrase with malice. He was on the shore of the lake, the voices having been dimmed gradually, but still horribly omnipresent.

"Well..." she delected in her obvious show of strength. "Well, well, well..." he voice seemed to linger on in a feline purr. Hook was still to shocked, disrupted and confused, so he said nothing, listening to the princess with her smug tone, which he could not understand, but was too weary and tired to fight back.

"Well, well, well..." she continued, unbearably smug. "So the mermaid took the form of me. Interesting, Captain. Interesting. I always knew that pirates, nay, men in general, were vulgar creatures and I was right. Perhaps I shouldn't have slept so close to you." She chuckled and continued her delicious monologue. "But then, I always knew another thing about men, well deep down I knew it off course, and that's that men are weak to the core."

Killian Jones kicked himself internally. Of course, it had been a mermaid. And him, the fiercest pirate in all the land had not realized. He was often the first one to realize. The coldness, the deep calculating eyes made sense now, as they had not made sense amidst the heat of the moment.

"Mermaids don't even work on women, anyway." he muttered in self defense.

"Well, just goes to show our inherit superiority as a gender, does it not, Captain?" she raised her eyebrow.

Hook sat up, nursing his bruised head. "No." he muttered again. "It's just a matter of... chance."

"Is it, though?"

"Yes!"

Another half laugh.

"Would you be interested as to know how I saved the damsel in distress then, Captain?"

"Not particularly. What I would like to know is how you got here and why the hell you ran away"

"Ahhh." she mused. "Well it's all the same story, so I'll tell both, shall I?"she made herself comfortable on the rock that she'd (no, no, no the mermaid) had sat on just a few minutes before, but now her skin was not so exposed, but her dress _was _wet. She put on leg over the over, as befit a true lady, and began her story.

"With you being useless and snoozing like you were I couldn't waste anymore time. So I sat there for a while and mused and thought deeply about what I'd learned from my absolutely useless books. And then I heard the trickling of the stream. It was compleatly dark of course, but I followed the sound, until I came across the lake. Why did I follow it? Because I thought that there must be a way out. Something connected to the outside world. So then I thought... water! It's connected to the sea, and the oceans, and it's always in the same place when you come to look for it. So I came across the lake. And I was sitting here, thinking of a way to make use of the water, when you showed up. And then that... creature sat on the rock, and, what would you know? She's me. Naturally, I was curious. So I sat above the bank and watched the events that occurred. You were pretty into it, if I may be so bold, Killian Jones. See, then I realized that the mermaids were occupying the lake, which only adds to the probability that it's the way out, because if they're in the oceans and they're here, there must be a connection, and secondly, why would the dark one be interested in guarding a useless lake? But back to our damsel in distress. You were, as I mentioned before, pretty into the whole affair, but then I realized I would need a navigation device if I was to get out of here, so I hit you with a rock, thus knocking you out, because if one ceases to see a mermaid, one also ceases to be under her charm. So I dragged you out, battling those ugly creatures with rocks, and here you are now."

She drew in her breath and looked at him triumphantly.

"Are you sure you didn't save me just because you saw what you were missing out on?" he asked, determined not to let her have the upper hand.

"You're disgusting." she shot him down. "And no."

"Let me assure you, Princess, that I only imagined you because you were the only lady I'd had contact with in a day or so, and I am a man of fleeting imaginations."

"From what I've seen, you're more of a man of fleeting courage and wit. Are you okay to stand?" she asked.

"Only just."

"Good." she said, dragging him by the hand into a little dinghy that lay in the dark part of the wood next to the lake, and was only slightly lit. She dragged it to the lake and sat him and then herself in it. There was a pause.

"So what are we doing?" he asked, looking around. "Rowing out into the middle of a lake?"

"Precisely." she said. "Don't look down, we don't want another _incident. _Look at the stars."

So he looked at the stars, at their glittering faces that somehow seemed to come alive, wondering why he'd let this woman row him out to the middle of a lake without his permission, why a mermaid had taken her form, and why he loved it so much. The water was slithering under them and Aurora was rowing to the middle of the lake, her soft yet strong arms somehow managing. He heard the slithering voices of the mermaids, dangerous for they all had the potential to grow louder and possess him again. Then Aurora gasped and looked ahead. "Killian," she whispered. "I've found it!"

He could not avert his gaze downwards, but just from her tone he could tell that she'd never really accomplished much before, and it was in the face of this discovery that she was slowly re-gaining herself. "It's a river!" she said. And she was right. Away from the stream and the waterfall, on the opposite side of the lake, there appeared a river, only if one was on the lake. It was a solitary path, nor winding nor tumbling, still, soft. And so they rowed on it, Killian still fearing to look down, humming his own indecipherable tune as to drown out the now fading voiced of the mermaids.

Suddenly the river gained speed. "Killian...Killian..." Aurora's voice was tinged with fear. They could hear a whooshing sound approaching, and the river was gaining speed and momentum by the minute. "Killian!" her voice was now an audible shriek. "Look down, for the love of..."

But he would not look down. He could still hear their faint voices.

"Killian!"

He grabbed her on impulse. And then they fell, grabbing onto each other for dear life, grabbing onto the boat for dear life, screeching, and crying for mercy. The river cascaded rapidly into what seemed a never ending waterfall and the water was surrounding them, soaking them to their bones as they fell, and they fell and fell even more. And then a _thump! _as they dived headfirst into the ocean.

Deep, deep into the ocean, Killian losing all his sense of direction. As he stopped, he looked up and saw the dark water above him, his eyes falling onto the creature below him, eyes closed, her purple cloak floating around her. Of course, he though, she can't swim. He grabbed Aurora and started swimming upwards, upwards into the fresh air that seemed never to come. His breath grew shallow, and she was slipping away from his arms. He grabbed her, and swam, upwards, upwards, until he had almost no breath left, his eyes closing, his flesh longing for the fresh air above, but finding no consolation. The princess was in his arms, slipping away, slipping...

Then finally he could see. Light. Light. Aurora's cloak had already slipped away from her, sinking into the dark abyss of the sea. He heaved upwards, the princess tightly wrapped in his arms. He could... he could make it. And then... air. Air, air, glorious air. Aurora came to life and they both spat out the endless amounts of saltwater they had managed to take in, thanking gods they were alive. Then they heard a voice above them and looked. A ship with black sails. "Hello." said a man with a beard black as night and a gleeful smile on his face "Looks like you'll be coming with us. Welcome abroad." And he laughed a loud, boisterous laugh that did not sound sincere at all.


	5. Blackbeard

Wet and shivering, the pirate and the princess were hoisted on deck. The crew stared, none of them eager to help. Aurora could feel Hook's hand wrap around her waist. _It's probably for warmth, _she told herself, and promptly pressed closer into his body, feeling slightly warmer and somehow more comfortable.

"Let me see yer' faces!" said the black bearded man, pushing somewhat clumsily through his crowd of men, swatting them away like obedient flies. He came over and stood over them, staring intently. Aurora noticed that Hook was not eager to reciprocate the look. The man hobbled over to Aurora, and lifted her head by the chin. She felt his hand, almost black from the dirt touch her skin, while he uttered something indecipherable, leaving muddy marks on her cheek. His gaze drifted downwards to her cleavage and dress, making her feel exposed not only before him but the rest of the crew. His chapped lips came closer to her, and she could smell a terrible stench off him. One would think with so much water around that could be avoided, thought Aurora, while trying her best not to pinch her nose.

"Pretty little thing, ain't you?" he glanced at her cleavage again, wet and shivering. He turned round to the rest of the crew, grabbing her brusquely by the arm and forcefully twirling her around. "Pretty little thing, ain't she?!" he shouted at them. She was met with vulgar laughter from half the crew and even more vulgar wolf whistling from the rest.

"But," continued the captain "the more interesting matter I ponder is the identity of your lovely little friend over here."

He staggered over to Hook menacingly, and suddenly the whole crew fell silent. All she could hear was the wind. Killian Jones seemed intent at keeping his gaze stoutly at the dirty deck below him. The man with the beard stood face to face with him, glaring carefully at his hair and the slight outline of his eyes. Then he looked downwards, and something shiny was reflected in his eye.

"Hook!" he bellowed. Aurora could hear the crowd whisper and mutter between themselves, but it was a more sinister muttering, unlike what they'd done at the sight of her. Initially, she'd hoped one might give her a blanket or something but she was mistaken, she thought as she looked at their unfriendly, dirt-ridden faces. The captain lifted Killian's head by the chin just as he'd done with her. His face was a mixture of desperation and humiliation, looking side to side, and looked as if the cold sea below him was a better alternative to the deck he was standing on. The captain turned round to face the crew, a gleeful smile painted on his face. "My old friend!" he announced cordially, and embraced him in a tight brotherly embrace. Aurora could see shock and confusion painted on Killian Jones' face as he half heartily embraced the bearded man back. "Blackbeard!" he uttered, the mask of virtue and nobility being re-instated on his face once more.

"And what are you doing in these, ehem, waters?" Blackbeard said in a deep booming voice, worthy of the depths of the ocean itself. "A pirate with no ship, no crew, why one could say you were not a pirate at all!" he laughed again, and Hook made a half hearted attempt to laugh along.

"Well," he said, speaking for the first time. "I am truly finished and done, you could say, dear Blackbeard, with the business. You, as it appears, have the upper hand in this game."

"The upper hand, huh?" Blackbeard echoed his words playfully, yet Aurora could see a gleam light up in the corner of his eye. "Yet," the bearded man came over and took Aurora harshly by the arm, at which she did her best not to whimper. "You're doing well in the only respect that you ever outdid me on, _dear _Captain Hook. I see even when poverty strikes you can still find yourself a hearty wench to warm your bed at night."

The crew boomed with laughter, and Aurora started protesting: "I _never..." _she said, outraged, but Hook cut her off mid- sentence.

"You were always such a obliging man, Blackbeard. However..." he became more confident, Aurora noticed through her bubbling rage, starting to walk slowly around the small circle they were standing in, surrounded by the crew. "...you have always... how should I say this...? You have always over- calculated my abilities to woo a woman."

"How _dare _you..." Aurora broke out, but was silenced but his hand.

"Pray let me continue, prin-, I mean wench." Hook quickly corrected himself, and then resumed his speech. "You see, this woman, despite being clearly not immune to the powers of my charms, has still failed to be obliging. So I am now a man without a ship, without a crew, and without a woman."

"Good." said Blackbeard curtly. "More for us then, eh?!" he turned round to the crew, being met with more wolf whistles and shouts of approval.

"Oh, I'm afraid not." said Hook "She's a very stubborn lady."

"Lady?" said Blackbeard, the gleam lighting up in his eye once again.

"Wench." Hook immediately corrected himself.

"_Really?" _Blackbeard came over to Aurora and took a strand of her hair, looking at it intensely, as if it contained some secret. She looked back into his eyes defiantly. _Let them know I am not to be played with, _she thought. He stared back into her ocean blue eyes quizzically. His look was no longer a look of desire but a rather more confused one. He studied her attire and her diadem carefully, with the eyes of a thief.

"Oh, I don't think she's a wench. I think she's rather more valuable." he whispered quietly, partly only to himself, partly to Hook whom he turned around to face. Killian Jones remained silent. "She reminds me of someone, don't you think?" he turned around to face Aurora. "That hair... Those eyes... That skin..." his fingers wandered around her cleavage, at which point she jumped up and moved away. "Feisty..." Blackbeard continued.

"I can assure you, she is of no value." Hook burst in.

"Yet she's wearing a diadem. And that dress is not the dress of a mere peasant."

"We stole it."

"Stole it?"

"Yes."

Blackbeard looked at Hook and laughed, his crew joining in, not at the actual hilarity, but rather out of fear of their captain.

"What are you laughing at?!" Blackbeard shouted at them, pulling out his sword. "Back to work, the lot of yeh'!" At which the crew reluctantly slunk away. Aurora could feel their eyes on her, like sharks on prey. Captain Blackbeard looked once again at Hook and once again laughed that booming laugh.

"You really think..." he could barely breathe "That I would believe you."

"I assure you, the prin- wench is of no value." Hook immediately chastised himself at his mistake.

"You know," Blackbeard inched closed towards him "I really don't know _why _they call you the most fierce pirate. You can't even lie properly. You have a perfect leverage but you don't even know how to handle it." he laughed to himself once more. "Don't you agree, Princess?" he spun round to face Aurora, who was now shivering so much her lip had started turning purple. "Oh, fetch her a blanket, will you?" he shouted at one of the crewmen. She felt some sticky hands around her bare naked arms as a think, dirty blanket was lowered on her shoulders.

"Anyway, I don't think I can trust you again, Hook." Blackbeard inched even closer towards him. "Not again..." he pondered, stroking his beard.

"But you said we were friends..." Hook continued feebly.

"_Said." _Blackbeard stressed sarcastically. "And there's a difference between saying and doing, and you, my dear captain, are perfect evidence of that. I haven't forgotten that mermaid, you know. And if you're willing to lie about our little _princess _here, who says you wouldn't be willing to lie about anything else?"

"It was just a confusion... I meant nothing by it..." he gazed to and fro.

"Oh, _spare me._" Blackbeard laughed again, and turned around at the same crewman.

"Take them to the brig, will you? We'll decide what to do with them in the morning."

The pirate came over and chained both up, neither making much effort to struggle, for they knew they stood a zero chance against Blackbeard himself and a two dozen crewmen. Killian Jones again looked pleadingly at Blackbeard. "Come on... We were friends, remember?" he said.

Blackbeard gazed at him again, taking none of his pretense. "Well I _did _give the princess a blanket, but I doubt she'd share it with you." And he walked away, laughing and chastising his crew, as the pirate and the princess were carried down into the darkness of the brig.


	6. Drinks and Dances

"For fucks sake!"

They were in the depths of the brig, shivering. Aurora was banging desperately on the bars, and Hook was cursing to himself silently, playing with his Hook, as he always did when bored or nervous.

"Killian. Jones." The Princess turned around to face him, weary of trying to open the cell, a look of furious anger painted on her face.

"Yes, Princess?" Hook gritted through his teeth, as always maintaining a facade of charm.

"Get. Me. Out. Of. Here." The Princess hissed through her teeth menacingly, her eyes a rising storm.

"And how do you suppose we do that, Princess?" Hook grinned, although he was cold and hungry and annoyed.

The Princess seemed to reciprocate the sentiment. "I'm cold and hungry," her voice echoing his thoughts. She gave him a slight kick with foot, now bare, as she had lost her slippers in the depths of the ocean. "And annoyed!"

"My sentiments exactly Princess." Killian Jones looked up and smiled cynically, raising his eyebrows up at her. "But what do you suppose we do about it? Shall I get out my magic wand and wave it around, see if that fixes anything? Make my magic ship appear out of nowhere, with an equally imaginary crew?"

She was still looking at him scornfully. "You're a _pirate. _We're amongst _pirates. _And we're in a jail cell, wet, with a blanket between us!"

Another slight raise of an eyebrow. "What are you insinuating, Princess?"

Again a perfectly shaped foot came sharply in contact with his shin. "Not anything unless you get me out of here, fed and out of these wet-" she remembered herself, but not in time to stop his chuckle. She should have greeted his remark with a cold silence, not with listing her own terms, no, that was definitely not ladylike.

"So you _are _insinuating that once I feed you and clothe you..." he didn't carry on, seeing the look in her eye, and hearing her shallow angry breathing."Well, if that doesn't remind me of..." he muttered to himself.

"I don't give the slightest _fuck _whether you think I'm insinuating something." Aurora carried on, her sharp, clipped voice almost rising to a shout. He looked at her flaming eyes and decided he wouldn't remark about the 'fuck' just yet. "And for the record, I wouldn't..." she made a vague arm gesture. "_Do_ _anything _with you. I don't make a habit of associating with pirates, especially pirates with hooks for hands who _can't escape out of a jail cell._"

Killian Jones sighed. "Even if we were to escape, Princess, where would we go?" He made himself comfortable as he could be against a wall and continued his speech. He delighted in speeches, particularly to insolent Princesses. "Where would we run? Around the deck? I'm a feared pirate, but I can't vanish into thin air."

Her anger had still not subsided. "If you hadn't been so stupid about the whole Princess thing, we'd be safely abroad this ship, and not in a jail cell. We could make port, and then I could finally get away from you."

He opened his mouth in mock astonishment. "But... Princess," he said. "I thought you and I were going to sail the seven seas... forever." He looked her deep into her eyes and then laughed.

"I'm fine with sailing the seas, as long as you're rotting in the depths below me." came back the aloof response.

"Women are bad luck on ships, you know. That's probably why we're here." he indicated the small jail cell with a ceremonious gesture.

"Or maybe we're here because of your stupidity." She retorted, pulling the shawl tighter round her.

"Maybe we're here because somebody tried to get away from the group."

"Maybe we're here because a stupid pirate doesn't even know how to make allies within his own bunch! God, I know enough about ruling to know not to be that stupid. You have enemies everywhere, don't you?"

"What does it matter, I can swat them away like flies."

"Yes," Aurora cried in exasperation, mocking his own ceremonious gesture. "As is evident!"

She sat down in a huff, her back to him. He could see her skin, bluish with little pimples. She was shivering, her dress heavy, wet and freezing. Killian knew what he was about to say would be... well, inappropriate. After all, he was not interested in taking her. But he didn't want the princess catching pneumonia or death from cold, for a princess is always useful leverage. His clothes were mostly leather, and slightly waterproof, but more importantly there were less of them. He knew through experiences he was too busy to count that high-born ladies wear usually consisted of chemises, undergarments, lots of layers. All of them soaked in water, in this freezing jail cell could mean disaster. He'd seen many a sailor die from such a feat. But then they were always too stupid to realize that wearing wet clothes would eventually end in their death. He liked to laugh as they showed signs of cough. It was particularly good when he had no rations left to feed them, and the ship was full of green boys. It got rid of them nice and easy.

But the Princess was useful leverage.

"Take off your clothes."

She made no reply.

"Take off your clothes."

Only her head turned round as she hissed: "Over my dead body."

"I'm afraid the only dead body here will be yours, if you don't take off your clothes."

"I'd rather die."

"Well, it's your funeral." he said, maneuvering her as he always did. "Quite...literally, in fact."

For a while there was silence, and then he heard the faint rasp of fabric being unfastened. Then the slight sound of fabric being ripped, and muffled cursing. He _was _a little curious, he admitted to himself as he turned round and began to speak.

"Do you need some hel-"

The Princess, mid way through unfastening her lilac dress, stared him straight in the eyes.

"You _dare _do that_" _she said. "And I swear to God I will rip out your eyeballs with your own hook."

"I assume you won't be needing my help then." Hook smiled, hiding his disappointment.

"You'd be assuming correctly."

He turned around and closed his eyes, resolving to snooze for a bit. He could still hear, however, the faint sound of fabric being unfastened, and in some cases even ripped gently. It did a great deal to his imagination. What it would be like to be the one unfastening the fabric, feeling the touch of lace against her soft porcelain skin. What it would be like to lay his fingers on that skin, to feel her lips again (or what he had thought had been her lips). Those lips, nibbling softly on his own, teasing him, leading him on, causing an irresistible storm of rum and whiskey to be built up inside him. Just as he had done with that enticing, enchanting _creature, _who had turned out to not be Aurora after all...

She finished undressing, and through the corner of his eye he could see she had only left a long chemise. All the rest, the delicate lilac gown, her petticoats, even her corset, now lay on the floor.

"Wise choice, milady." he said sourly. "I know a very few dames who would put their lives in front of their dignity."

"Oh, I don't believe there's much dignity in dying." she said sweetly. She was shivering much less now, but was still puling the blanket tightly around her.

"I'd be better if we huddled up." She said hurriedly, as if embarrassed.

"Well, well, well, Princess..." he said, elongating each word making it as delicious as possible. "So you really _were _insinuating-"

She stared him in the eyes, still scornfully, but with a hint of a smile playing at the edges of her raspberry coloured lips. She had a nervous habit of biting them, he noticed, and it made him more wanting get a taste. Would they taste of summer fruit, pomegranate? Would they taste as salty as the sea? When the mermaid had kissed him, he had only felt a deep and yearning desire on his part, nothing more. No warmth, no taste. Suddenly he longed to taste the princess, to have her lips touch his.

She came over to him, and spread out the blanket between both of them.

"I may not like you," she said. "But I'll need you alive and well if we're ever to face these pirates."

"Please," he said scornfully. "You wouldn't last a second without me."

"Or you me." she said, all coy and secretive.

He didn't respond, but held held her as he began to drift off to sleep, her wet hair all around him, her head resting on his chest. He knew it was only for warmth. Strategic and all that. But somehow he couldn't help and put an arm around the sleeping princess as they both nodded off to sleep in each other's arms.

"Wake up, you useless scoundrels!" a booming voice plunged them out of deep slumber. They both sprang apart, as if caught doing something forbidden. A man had opened the cell and was looking down at them. He was less frightening that Blackbeard, but nevertheless a pirate; dirty and with a characteristic stench off him. He chuckled to himself when he saw the princess in just a chemise and the captain lying together on the floor, Killian only just now realizing that his fingers were tangled in his hair. "I said, get up!" The man insisted more. "Cap'n wants to see yer'"

Confused by the noise and the movement of the boat, Killian Jones and Aurora rose, stretching. The man looked at Aurora, only covered with her chemise.

"You're a pretty little girl, ain't ya?" he said, his eyes straying in the direction of her breasts. He was immediately reprimanded by Hook's well practiced death glare. They followed the Man with the keys upstairs into where the Captain's quarters were. He knocked timidly on the small door. "I've got the Pirate and the Princess, Cap'n"

"Let them come, let them come," the deep booming bass answered, and promptly Aurora and Killian Jones were led into the Captain's quarters. It was a small, shabby, dirty room, with a table at the centre, Killian suspected usually littered with maps, but which was presently covered with a white (by pirate standards) cloth on which rested a simple yet delicious looking meal, particularly to the two, who had had nothing to eat for the last few days but apples and rum. Speaking of which, Killian noticed a bottle on the table, thanking the heavens and fairies for this miracle. There were several other men in the chamber, who wolf whistled as Aurora entered. Blackbeard himself looked her up and down approvingly with lusting eyes.

"So, I see despite your humble claims, Captain Hook, that you have managed to seduce-"

"I was _not _seduced!" The Princess fired up again.

"Of course you weren't, child." Blackbeard looked her over, before resting his hand on her shoulder. Hook noticed Aurora shiver.

Blackbeard apparently did too. "Are you afraid of me, child?"

He saw her eyes look around her helplessly and then meet his own. She looked desperate but also resolved to play the part of an obedient girl, if this was to get her out of here.

"Oh... no." She said slickly. "Just that... well, I'm very, very cold..."

"You are, are you...?" said the Captain, his hand now descending from her shoulder onto the outskirts of where the lacy chemise met her bosom. "Our lovely Captain Hook here didn't manage to warm you up?"

The crew laughed boisterously, and Aurora managed to giggle charmingly, looking upwards at the Captain, as if lost in his eyes. Killian found himself wondering whether she had also slipped into this role with him as well. He didn't quite know why, but the realization had left a sickly feeling in his stomach.

"I think I may have some... clothes." said the Captain, his hand now well in breach of Aurora's breast, at which the Princess looked disgusted. She caught Killian's eye, and rolled her eyes at the captain. He responded with a slightly raised eyebrow as if to say 'Well, Princess, aren't you glad I'm not so... forward?'

"That'd be absolutely wonderful." Said Aurora in her voice, instead of sarcasm now dripping with syrup. His gaze at her said 'You're overdoing on the candy, sweetheart.'

'Shut up, it's working' her eyes said in response.

"Barbarossa," said Blackbeard to the man who'd bought them in. "Get me that chest of clothes you have."

"Chest of clothes, Cap'n?" The man who's name was apparently Barbarossa seemed confused.

"Chest of clothes. For our wonderful _Princess _over here." Blackbeard deliberately elongated that word so that it left a sour taste in Hook's mouth, a reminder of his own foolishness.

Barbarossa nodded, turned around, then came back again. "I'm not exactly sure... what you mean, Cap'n" he stammered, keeping at eye level with the floor.

"That chest of clothes I have. Find it, you scalawag! Ladies clothes, you nitwit!" The Captain shouted at the stammering man. "Goddamn Ladies clothes, in a green embroidered chest, you fool!"

Barbarossa slunk away and finally produced the chest. The princess looked coyly at the Captain.

"Are you suggesting I should change here?" She said with a bit too much pretended innocence in her voice, Hook thought.

"Would the crew have anything against that?" Blackbeard boomed again, gathering more laughs and wolf whistles. "Barbarossa," he said, once the laughs had subsided. "Fetch the paravan."

At this point, Barbarossa produced a beautiful painted paravan, opening it and giving the princess some privacy. It was painted all over with sunflowers. The men tried not to be _too _affected by the knowledge the princess was changing behind it, and watching the slip and undershirt come off and be hung over the contraption certainly wasn't helping. Meanwhile, Barbarossa poured all of them rum and the pirates drank and toasted. Of course, Killian Jones knew it was all a pretense. Pirates would only ever stick together when it was crucial, when they had a bigger enemy. After a few drinks, they were sure to demand something of him, make a threat, a proposition. They were not a noble race.

The Princess emerged from behind the paravan which Barbarossa folded and put back in its rightful place. She was wearing a simple spring green gown, low cut and made of some sort of soft, silky fabric. Her hair, now dry, was in a beautiful mess around her face. The green matched her porcelain skin perfectly. The men looked at her, astounded at such a untouched and naive, spring fresh beauty. They were pirates, Killian knew, and were used a rough life, a life always stained by dishonesty and corruption. They were used to rough, demanding women, women who'd been weathered by life, not who had, like good wine, been conditioned into a succulent beauty as the years went by.

"Sit down." demanded Blackbeard, pulling up a chair.

They proceeded to get drunk. _Very _drunk, until Killian was not sure he could stand. Aurora's cheeks turned red, and she was now laughing more boisterously, touching Blackbeard on the arm, and joining in with the general banter, throwing a joke one direction, a witty comment in the other, an anecdote in the next. Looking at her, Killian Jones thought this changeable girl, who read and loved adventures, who knew exactly how to wind the infamous Blackbeard around her little finger, would make the perfect pirate. They laughed and told stories of old days, and Blackbeard kept remarking how beautiful and regal Aurora was, how her lips and skin and eyes reminded him of somebody he'd met long ago. Then, on a whim Blackbeard suggested they go outside. They struggled up the narrow stairs, the pirates and the only princess, to the deck of the ship which was now balancing itself on a still calm sea, under a starry glittering sky. The air was cool and fresh, allowing them all to see their rum stained breath raise up to the sky and then disappear into a cloud. The slight breeze rippled the princess' hair, rippled the gown, as they sat on deck. Blackbeard then produced a violin, saying that in his youth, he'd played a little as a beggar boy. He hadn't played in a long time, but he'd get the swing. The violin was produced and tuned up, and the drunken Captain said "Dance!" just that, nothing more. Killian and Aurora looked at each other, at loss as what to do. He didn't know whether it was the rum, or the magic of the night, but Killian Jones found himself walking towards the princess, of course accompanied by obligatory wolf whistles from the five or six higher ranking members of the crew and the Captain himself.

"Care to dance, Princess?" he asked curtly, as befit a true gentleman. Killian Jones was the furthest thing from it, but on this starry night, full of pretensions and weird occurrences, he thought he could permit himself this one small lie. Her answer was a small curtsey, so perfect, as only befit a true princess for whom curtsies and bows were probably second nature. So he seized her by the waist and performing the old time ritual of dancing round a circle, slowly, letting the world pass them by as Blackbeard struck out the first chord. It looked as if he'd taught his sailors the song, for they joined in, in perfect, as if rehearsed, harmony.

_The door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust on us_

_Footsteps follow, down through the hollow sound, torn up_

_And you will go to Mykonos_

_With a vision of a gentle coast_

_And a sun to maybe dissipate_

_Shadows of the mess you made_

The song seemed to be rocking both of them to sleep, and the sailors burst out in a thousand "Oh's" that seemed to go on forever, in a bust of song and harmony. Aurora placed her head on Hook's shoulder, looking up at the stars, thinking that this, this place, here, is where she wanted to be. Here, wearing a strange woman's clothes, freezing cold, in the arms of a pirate.

_How did any holes in the snow-tipped pines, I find_

_Hatching from the seed of your thin mind, all night_

_And you will go to Mykonos_

_With a vision of a gentle coast_

_And a sun to maybe dissipate_

_Shadows of the mess you made_

Hook could feel the princess' soft arms around him. He'd never felt so at peace. Not nice Milah. But this girl was different. She wasn't the same, yet he felt the same. He grabbed her tightly, longing to feel her against him, longing to posses her. He could feel her breath on his skin.

_Brother, you don't need to turn me away_

_I was waiting down at the ancient gate_

_You go wherever you go today_

_You go today_

_I remember how they took you down_

_As the winter turned the meadow brown_

_You go wherever you go today_

_You go today_

_When out walking, brother, don't you forget_

_It ain't often that you'll ever find a friend_

Blackbeard finished the mournful yet beautiful song, and they were still swaying on the spot when the last echo of the music had been stilled. The whole crew, the princess, the captain, Hook, all stood in silence, soaking up this night, the magic and freshness of it.

"You remind me of a girl I once..." Blackbeard started drunkenly, slurring most of his words. "I once... never mind." he waved a dismissive hand.

"Let me tell you. You remind me of her, girl. I think it may be something about your face, those features, that skin. You look so innocent, and Amy... she was so naive, so innocent, so believing. I rescued her when she was on a ship, she was..." he waved his arms around, as if he could conjure up a memory by doing it. "Goddamn it, who was Amy's mother, Hook? Come to think of it, who was her sister?"

"That fishwife,Ariel. And... Merida was the name of the sister, I think." Hook answered obligingly, fearing where the story would go, but even more fearful to break up Blackbeard's confession. He saw Aurora slumber against the sail, struggling to keep awake.

"She was just around twenty, and on the way to meet her prince. Get married, have a kingdom, bear him children, all that. But then I rescued her..." he seemed to go into musing, looking at the stars as if they had witnessed a similar night a long time ago. "I rescued her, and she was an astonishing creature. Green eyes, red curly hair, there was the touch of the devil about her. And of course me, being the young lad I was, of course I fell for it." He paused. "Of course I fell for it." he repeated quietly.

"We made a plan. It was a simple plan, as those romantic plans are apt to be. Run away together. Forget about the prince. The dress you're wearing is hers." He indicated towards Aurora. "And then one day our hero shows up. Your little friend over here." He spat in Hook's direction.

"Who can compare to our gorgeous Captain Hook over here, my friend and companion since youth. She loved _me." _He seemed to be stifling a drunken sob. "She loved me. But as I said, who can compare to the charming Captain Hook? He took her, made her promises, charmed her away from me. He took her away, and then what did he do?" Blackbeard was almost shouting now, shouting at the stars, shouting at the crew. "He handed her right into his filthy, cold hands. So she had children, she had a castle, she had the whole bunch. And all I have is the _godforsaken _ship and this chest of clothes to remember her by. And the best part?" he seemed to be talking primarily to himself now. "He did it because they paid him, the bloody _fishwife paid_ him to take her daughter and deliver her like a package. That's why me and _darling _Captain Hook and I aren't friends. And that's why you're going to rot in this cell for eternity. I've often looked at the ocean and wondered what sweet victory it would be to find you. Fine the wonderful, admirable Captain Hook and find that daughter of a fishwife. Tie you together, make you walk the plank and see you disappear into the depths of the sea." And he laughed his boisterous laugh that extended into the night, freezing the entire atmosphere.

Hook looked at him, for the first time frightened. Of course the Captain was drunk off his arse, he'd probably forget by next morning, but now once small slip could cook him up the fate the Captain had just described. He looked at Aurora, her eyes half open, stifling a yawn. _Blackbeard said she looked like her, _he thought, suddenly nervous. It was crucial at this moment that the princess shouldn't blab, blab anything about what kind of princess she was, or who her mother had been. The chances were low but nevertheless...

"And now," Blackbeard said. "We go back. You've had your moment of fun, Hook. But I must confess it brings me joy to see you fail to enchant a girl this time. Barbarossa," he called again. "Give them the quarters next to mine."

Aurora got up and stretched. "Thank you Captain," she said, forever playing the part of a lady. "For this wonderful evening, the meal, everything. And for the quarters, too."

"Yes, thank you most graciously." Hook added.

Blackbeard made a grunt. "Don't forget," he said, pointing at the two. "You two are still my prisoners."


	7. Heavy In Your Arms

_Hello! Long Time no update. I've been pretty busy with exams but they're all over now. Let me know what you think of the chapter. _

* * *

They woke up enveloped in each other's arms, as they had fallen drunkenly on the bed in the quarters next to Blackbeard's. He could hear the princess' steady and deep breathing next to her as he discovered his arm gripped around her waist.

"Ugh... get off..." she murmured, half asleep. His ran his fingers down the green silk she was wearing and lowered his lips to her ear.

"Sure you don't like it?" he drunkenly whispered, his whiskey stained breath blowing in her ear.

"No..." He was sure she had never truly gotten drunk before and now she put her hand up to her head, closing her eyes. "I feel terrible," she whined.

"That, my dear," he said, trying to sit up. "Is called a hangover."

"Shut up." she replied curtly and drew the covers over both their heads. Suddenly, he found himself a few inches away from her face.

"Well, princess, I _know _you keep saying you want nothing to do with me." he joked, his voice hoarse. "But I must admit that you _are _sending mixed signals."

She opened her eyes half-way, staring straight into his. He took the time to observe her face. He looked at her long black eyelashes, the small freckles on her face, he noticed the way her raspberry lips were pursed together and slightly curled at the side. She only made a grunt and did not respond. He noticed that his hand was still on the dress. He took time to feel the fabric and her waist beneath it. Moving his hand up, he felt the outline of her breast. She only made a disgruntled noise and moved away an inch, but he noticed that she wasn't making any _special _effort to escape him, and when he ticked her she laughed. He stopped but his hand rested on her. It was dark underneath the covers, but the some light from the window had penetrated the cover and now was throwing glimmers of light on her lashes, on her porcelain skin, on the corners of her lips curled in a smile. From the back of her throat escaped a small purr. "I _don't _want anything to do with you." she reassured him, but in the foremost part herself. "But I _do_ like this." He was sure it was the alcohol talking. After all, the most the princess would have had would have been a watered down glass of cider, not a full blown pirate piss up. He again felt the silky fabric and the breast beneath it, his fingers straying around the lace that outlined the edges of the dress, feeling the warm and soft flesh beneath them. Her chest was rising and falling steadily, smoothly. He noticed her close her eyes and her lips manage a faint smile, from the back of her throat came a small sound of pleasure as his hand went beneath the fabric, and he felt her nipple harden as a wave of electricity travelled down his arm. Her hand rose to meet his and pulled it away from her.

"We should sleep." She smiled up to him.

He tried to protest but she just smiled and turned away, his hand still resting on her waist as the sound of her breathing and the sound of the waves rocked him to sleep.

As she rose the room was spinning. She looked out the window; she was not skilled at sailing but she could infer it was around late morning. She wasn't accustomed to walking around a rocking ship, hungover as hell, and therefore she slipped a couple of times, cursing loudly, thanking the gods that Killian Jones was asleep and that his ears were not receptive to the filth escaping her mouth, as he was always keen to reprimand her. She managed to stumble across to where the chest with the clothes that the mysterious woman had left behind had been, and opened the lid with some clothes were beautiful, satins, silks; the woman had certainly been rich. She rummaged thorough the chest to find _something _suitable, and was relieved to find the clothes were rich, yes, but not impractical. She took off the green silk and donned a faded blue dress that looked warm and was made of simple cotton on the outside, and a cloak lined with wolf fur (which felt absolutely delightful), as well as practical leather shoes. After the coldness of the her wet purple dress, and the green silk, which felt lovely but nevertheless allowed for a lot of drafting, she finally felt warm and comfortable. She looked around; there was a small washing sink, that chest of clothes, some candles, and a table. She could certainly travel here in, well, _moderate _luxury. Somebody stretched out behind her, and she turned around to face Hook, stretching from the night's sleep.

"You like it?" she said, twirling around in her outfit. "I'm finally warm!" She communicated this priceless information with great zeal.

"Well I'm bloody not," said the pirate, rubbing his head, the clouded memories of last night only now starting to arrange themselves in place. Aurora, smiled and rummaged in the chest and with a conspicuous smile drew out a long gown.

"I think this will do." she said, turning around and showing it to him. "Or," she said, turning around and rummaging again. "This!" This time she drew out a pink nightgown adorned, even by her standards, with too many frills.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Killian Jones said pointedly. "Very funny."

"I have asked you many, many, more than dozens of times, but I will ask again," the princess said standing above him, hands crossed. "_I thought you were a pirate."_

"Statement, not question." Killian said, pulling the covers up to his chin. "And I am a pirate."

"Well, how do you explain _this?" _

"I usually have _somebody _to warm my bed-"

"Yes, I'm sure your crew were only too happy to oblige."

"-But it appears she's left it. Sadly."

The memories of last night and particularly the conversations were reconstructing themselves in Killian's memory, slowly, into a puzzle that didn't quite make sense.

"Hey, look what I found-" Aurora was saying, holding up a little pin.

What the captain had said about Amelia.

"That's _really _weird."

What he'd said...something about resemblance. How that dress... made her eyes pop or something? Suited her skin?

"Killian, what do you think this means? This is the house sigil of my mother here." the girl was saying, holding up a small pin in the shape of trident.

And then suddenly his mind did not need any more help piecing the pieces together.

"Shit."

"Killian-"

"Fuck."

"-Jones"

He stood up, and studied the pin.

"What was your mother's name?."

"-Killian..." she began, not quite sure what to make of it.

"What was her name?"

"Amelia. " came the reply he didn't really need, but which made him groan nevertheless. Of course, she would have too drunk and dizzied, too out of earshot, to put two and two together last night.

"Don't you ever tell him that." he commanded.

"What...?" she looked at him quizzically.

"Just don't tell him your mother's name or family history or who you are. Just make up a story. Say you come from rich merchants or something." he was looking her right in the eyes. "Listen to me, Aurora."

"...Fine." she finally gave in, and his grip on her arms loosened. He breathed in and out a few times. "Good. Good."

The princess was still looking bewildered. "And would you care to explain why?" she said, looking at him quizzically.

"Too hard to explain." he said non-committaly and not exactly sure why.

"Really, now?" she arched an eyebrow.

"Yes. Really."

"Fine, I guess..." she drifted, but quickly changed the subject. "So you won't wear ladies' clothes to stay warm, but you insist on wearing," she gestured to his eyes. "_that, _whatever it is, charcoal or what, but you insist on renewing it everyday."

"I do _not." _

"You really don't think I don't notice that it looks fresh every singe day." she again stated, not asked, raising an eyebrow again, which was beginning to become a habit he was irritated yet amused by. When he did not respond, she sighed. "I'm going," she said, opening the door.

"Where?"

"Breakfast. I'm famished."

"You're going without me? Without my protection?"

She just looked at him, cowering in bed. "I'm pretty sure they'll make me walk the plank, actually, in which case I send my regards from the depths of the ocean."

"My eyes have a naturally dark outline!" he shouted after her, as she exited their little cabin. Killian Jones was not sure why he had denied her the truth, but in the back of his mind he still retained the pirate or just universal (to him) truth; that information was more valuable than gold.

"-And my mother was a poor farmer's daughter, but my father, a prince, you see, insisted on marrying her, see, because he loved her so much. Even though grandmother Gwen didn't like it all that much. She always said that he ought to marry a lady of better standing and blood, but my father insisted, and so they got married secretly. And then they ran away together, for a while, which grandmother Gwen didn't like even _more..." _

Aurora had gotten good at lying.

She was presently in the Captain's quarters, with who else but the Captain's hand resting on her thigh. Dangerously quite high up her thigh. She was also eating breakfast, and had chosen to spend more attention on the latter rather than the former, even if the former was making the latter more nauseating. The breakfast consisted of wine (she'd also gotten quite adept at drinking in the mornings lately), scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. Her pending hunger sustained for the last few days still not absent, even considering the banquet-like meal she had been served last night, she was eating as much as she could lay eyes on. Already she'd had three cups of wine, two extra portions of eggs and around five slices of bacon. Between bites she kept the Captain entertained. She was not stupid, and already knew they were on thin ice with Killian. That and the fact that they were surrounded by leagues and leagues of water in which only the Gods knew what lurked in did not help the case. It was simply not practical to retain the role of the distressed and distrusting hostage. Therefore she had resolved to at least keep the Captain's attentions, even if it meant letting him rest his hand on her thigh. She had seen courtesans do the same at court, and quickly shook her head. _She _was not a courtesan. Though she thought what her governess would say to see such behavior and laughed to herself. She could just imagine the normally tightly set face of her teacher set itself in a perfect 'O' shape, as it was so often apt to do, as she saw Aurora dance with a pirate, undress in front of said pirate, let said pirate fondle her breast, drink anything other than cider, and let yet _another _pirate touch her _very _dangerously high up her thigh. Oh, and wear fur. She always said fur was a needless show of wealth, only suitable to those up north, and (she had always scoffed when she said this) the merchant classes.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Just my gov-" she found herself quickly and struggled to find a way out of this blunder. Fortunately, Killian Jones walked in right at this second.

"I am starving."

Aurora had never been as happy to see him as she had at this moment. Captain Hook looked at the hand resting on the thigh, and raised his eyebrows mockingly.

"Should I leave or-"

"You should stay." said Aurora instantly.

"Should he?" the Captain looked around at the princess, less enthusiastic.

"Oh, Captain." she jousted, twirling his beard and presently getting her fingers tangled in it. "I'm sure you'll be as obliging as to serve my friend some food and allow him to sit with us."

"Whatever you say, dear." said Blackbeard, and Hook was served.

"Don't worry." said Aurora, smiling slyly and allowing herself a little dig. "You won't disturb us."

"I wouldn't dream of it." said Hook, equally courteously.

They finished their breakfast, and after a few laughs and stories Hook and Aurora got up at Blackbeard's invitation to show them around the ship. He, however remained in his seat, and as Aurora was out the door, ordered Hook to close it.

"Go upstairs, darling, ask Barbarossa to show you around!" he'd shouted after and beckoned Hook to sit down. He sipped his wine leisurely and did not say a word. Finally Hook spoke up.

"What was _that_?" he indicated the direction Aurora had gone with his eyebrows.

"What was _what?_" asked Blackbeard innocently, continuing to sip his wine.

"The _hand, _Blackbeard."

The pirate laughed and put down his cup. "Just because she doesn't want you, doesn't mean she doesn't want _me._"

"The girl is probably scared you'd butcher her if she refused your advances."

"Oh you make me sound like a monster, my _dear _Captain."

"You are a monster, _dear _Captain," came the retort. "Need I mention that that that presumption is evidenced by many incidents."

"Your vernacular has certainly improved, Captain." said Blackbeard mockingly. "Besides that was a few-"

"Dozen." substituted Hook.

"-times." said Blackbeard. "And need I remind you that you are not a saint either. Remember the sacking of the pale?"

Hook pretended to think. "Not exactly, no."

"Let me refresh your memory, _si'l vous plais_, since we are speaking so proper now." said Blackbeard, putting his feet up on the table. "In fact, I remember the sacking of the Pale very well since you _sunk my ship on the way there." _

Hook smiled at the memory. "I actually do recall that, if somewhat vaguely."

"Oh I'm not finished yet."

"Than pray continue."

"If I do remember correctly, after you sacked the pale, you ordered the death of... what was it? Three thousand-"

"Ten thousand." the pirate interrupted.

"So you do remember."

"My memory is very hazy, dear Captain."

Blackbeard grumbled something under his breath and continued the tale. "You ordered the death of ten thousand women and children, nevertheless. Even though they had already surrendered." He looked at the pirate opposite him, expecting a response.

"You can never be too careful with people." it came. "Or else _someone_ might sink your ship." Hook seemed rather amused at the whole thing. "Besides captain, my vague memory seems to be recalling something. It's shady..." he pretended to look into a distance, as if he was a Seer. "I remember that time you slaughtered your entire crew because a fishwife told you there'd be a mutiny against you. When you were drunk. Actually scratch that. That was multiple times."

Blackbeard looked at him, and Captain Hook looked back with a raised eyebrow.

"Fine." Blackbeard retorted. "So we're as bad as each other. Back to the girl," he was mildly irritated now, but it did not weaken his reserve. "You were such a great person with women, Killian-"

"Please not the Amelia story again, I think I might vomit."

"Oh no, no, no." Blackbeard replied. "What I _meant _to say was that I did not hear any... How do I put this politely..." he pretended to concentrate. "moans-"

"Subtlety was never your strong suit."

"-coming from the cabin right next to me. And you've been with her for how long?" said Blackbeard, and when Hook did not seem enthusiastic to answer, he carried on. "You know, dear Captain, maybe _I _should invite her to my quarters tonight, eh?"

Killian Jones said nothing, but stayed silent. He remembered the almost kiss and that morning, and though he hated it, he realized that seeing any more of Blackbeard's hands on the girls thighs or any other part of her body would be capable of driving him to murder.

"...Which wouldn't be necessary had you not walked in half an hour ago, actually."

"Well," Hook said, trying to remain indifferent. "I saved the girl from the most unfortunate fate."

Blackbeard laughed, but with not a trace of sincerity, and poured himself and Hook another cup of wine.

"But we're not here to talk about that, my dear Captain."

"Thank Gods."

"-Can you let me-?"

"Because I'm sorry to break this to you, but you'd never stand a chance. It's been proven."

"Oh I think you'd trade something like her for what I have to offer. But that's not the trade I'm proposing."

"I am on the edge of my seat."

"Shut up. The trade I am proposing," the captain leaned in, so that Hook could smell his tar tainted breath up close. "is for something much more valuable than a merchant's daughter."

"What is that?"

The captain paused for a brief moment to delight in the expectancy in Hook's eyes. His voice lowered to a whisper. "The Jolly Roger."

Hook laughed, moving away from Blackbeard's beard and rocking back in his chair.

"Oh _dear _Captain, you are more gullible and downright stupid that I took you for." He could not contain the laughter. "Can you see me with the Jolly Roger somewhere around here? Is it around the corner? It turns out this has just been a pleasant meeting between friends after all." He poured himself another cup of wine and drank it between laughs. "So dramatic, so much tension..." he was repeating, now more to himself. "The Jolly Roger, indeed. Do you take me for a fool captain? What would I be doing here, if I _knew _were the Jolly Roger was? If I even knew alone where my _crew _was? Because," he poured himself another cup. "I sure wouldn't be here, I can assure you, as much fondness as I have for your person, I am not _that _fond."

"Oh, shut it," Blackbeard snapped. "I'm talking about trading the Jolly Roger for something of yours, you damnable fuckwit."

His interruption was certainly successful in wiping the smirk from Hook's face.

"You know where it is?" he almost whispered.

"Aye." Blackbeard leaned back, satisfied that he had finally captured Hook's attentions.

"How?"

"Now, why would I be telling you that?"

"Because I know you're lying."

"Are you prepared to take that risk?"

A moment of hesitation. Hook remembered his ship. He remembered the way that the way that the sails had felt beneath his hands, the delightful way the floorboards had creaked beneath his feet. With his ship he could reclaim his freedom, the freedom to go anywhere and skin himself a crocodile. He wondered what it would be like to feel his flesh beneath his fingers, to see his face writhe in agony, to see him bleed on the floor beneath him. Suddenly, Blackbeard took out a compass, and opened it. He did not look at the arrows however, but opened a small pocket in the inside of the lid. From it a piece of wood fell out, or rather _flew _out. Both men stared at it as it flew around the room.

"Believe me now?" said Blackbeard, a tone of satisfaction in his voice.

Hook said nothing, but only stared at the piece of wood, as if charmed by it.

"Think I thought you wouldn't need proof if I found you?" Blackbeard chuckled. "You or anybody else who wanted a flying ship. You have a tendency to underestimate me, darling Hook."

"Well that tendency sometimes comes in useful. Often times it comes in useful. What do you want for it?"

"Well, what do you have?"

"Enough of the games, Blackbeard." suddenly, all the jousting and mocking nature disappeared in Killian Jones. He was still looking at the flying wood, his eyes widened, as if in an enchantment. The man opposite him smiled. If there had been one thing that the formidable Captain Hook loved, any man who sailed the seven seas would tell you it was his vessel. He leaned in again, and again lowered his voice to a bare whisper.

"Fairy dust."

"I don't have fairy dust."

"_What?" _Blackbeard was genuinely taken aback by surprise.

Hook's head sank. He _did _have the dust only a few days ago, but he had given the rest of it to Cora.

"I can get some from the mines once I have my ship."

Blackbeard leaned back in his chair. "You really think that I'd fall for that. I lead you to the ship, let you recruit a crew, and then let you go on account of what... your word?"

"I could... give you directions."

"You know full well there's not a ship besides the Jolly Roger that can go where the mines are, so don't you try that with me." Blackbeard raised his voice. A slight pause.

"Why do you need fairy dust, anyway?"

"That is neither here nor there. And if you don't have anything to trade, then I guess our deal's off. Such a shame. Unless you have something else to trade."

"Like what?"

"Oh, anything of use."

Hook got up and started for the door. "I'd better check up on Aurora."

The name triggered a certain memory, and before Killian Jones left for the deck he turned around to face the man sitting in front of him, now drinking Rum and humming 'What shall we do with a drunken sailor?' to himself.

"You know that trade." he asked, his voice somewhat lowered. "Could it be anything? Could it be information?"

The man raised his head and looked Hook in the eyes. "I suppose..." he mused, taking a glug of rum. "Only if it's really, and I mean, really, good."

Hook did not respond but closed the door behind himself, and as he went up to the deck his thoughts were racing.

The princess was standing on deck, leaning her hands against the bannister as the cold and salty wind blew in her face, blowing her hair all around her. Hook watched her for a second as he came up on deck and then did the same. They started out to sea listlessly. Nobody spoke. All they could hear was the quiet whispering of the wind. Aurora spoke first.

"So what did you two talk about?"

"Things..." said Killian, not especially devious in conning an excuse. The wind was dispelling the scent of her hair.

"Things, huh?" she said, turning her head round to him with a laugh on her lips.

"Pirate things." he protested, turning round to face her.

"Pirate things, huh?" she replied raising an eyebrow.

"Pirate things." he repeated again.

"Brands of charcoal?"

"No."

"Leather shops?"

"No."

She pretended to think again. "Gold chains!" she pointed her finger at him as he looked at her, unamused. She did not let it phase her though.

"I can see why you like it." she said, after a pause, resuming her gaze at the ocean ahead.

"You can?" he asked, slightly taken aback.

"So you can... just go anywhere?" she asked, still looking ahead. "Just... take off, leave?"

"Theoretically."

She spun around and leaned her back against the bannister. "Theoretically?"

"Well, there's always winds to consider, and you need to stock up on supplies and you need to know which villages to raid, and there's always some kind of gathering you have to be at, and some more crew men to get you there... but yes, theoretically you can go anywhere. I can show you, if you want." He looked at the helm, and took her by the wrist, dragging her up the stairs.

"You," he said to the crewman. "May I?"

"Of... Of course," said the stunned boy, stepping out the way almost immediately. Killian Jones pushed Aurora in front of him.

"Go on, take the wheel," he said encouragingly and when she looked hesitant he grabbed her by the wrists again and positioning himself behind her he placed her hands on the wheel. "Go on, Princess." he said. "We don't have all day here, I don't even know the bearing. You could be getting us lost at this exact moment."

Her head spun around and faced him. "Then why all this pressure?" she asked.

"If you don't think you're capable..."

"Shut up, of course I'm capable."

"Well then," he said, his hands strengthening their grip on hers. Her back felt warm against him. "You just don't let go."

"That's it?"

"Well, essentially."

"Just don't let go and you can go anywhere?"

"Like I said, theoretically. If there is a storm, for example, you might have to do more than that."

"And what if, say, I wanted to go to Westeros?"

"Well, you'd have to do a sharp right. We're going north at the moment-"

"How do you know?"

"Wind. Anyway, we're going north, and Westeros is West. Part of the reason it's called Westeros, I recon."

"Except to those who already live in the West."

"Fair point."

There was a silence, but he saw her smiling as the wind played havoc with her hair.

"So I could go right, to Westeros." she said. "And then pick up some Dornish wine."

"Dorne is a free city it's not part-"

"I know, idiot." she interrupted, her grip on the ship's wheel getting surer. "I could pick up some Dornish Wine and then to get back to my land I'd go far east."

"And you'd be home in time for supper."

"Well, theoretically." she said, staring back at him.

"Careful, princess, I know the sight of my face is enough to distract one from the course but in such a case we should ask the boy to steer again. The boy was not far off and resumed the post again muttering a small thank you. They walked off and put their elbows on the bannister, resuming their private thoughts. Aurora, however, had not been able to stop herself from gazing at him, wondering what he was thinking. He was difficult to figure out. A madman, she knew. But there was casual glimpses of him that puzzled her. He was not a good man, that much was sure. She had no reserves as to that fact. He was not a good man. But he was like a painting in which the shades of red and green and blue had been hidden by the darkness. Somehow in the light they had not managed to hide.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

He did not reply.

"Killian? Do you have a plan?" she asked again, nudging him on the shoulder gingerly. Somehow, the gesture felt out of place. She did not see why, they had slept together, after all. Slept in the most innocent sense of the word, she kept reminding herself, shaking away memories from the morning.

"Cap'n's planning another deck party tonight!" shouted Barbarossa up to them. "And he requests you dress nice, princess!"

The crew laughed, and Killian joined in half heartedly.

"Hey!" she reprimanded him. "You're supposed to be guarding the damsel in distress!"

"Please, princess, you may be many things," said Killian Jones. "But a damsel in distress you most certainly are not."

She smiled despite herself.

"I might be, for all you know."

"For all I know you're decidedly not that."

"Come on," she said, leading him down the stairs to their quarters. "Better play the part."

"If you mean letting him stroke your thigh again, Princess..."

"What about that?" she said defiantly, stopping halfway down the stairs and turning around to face Hook, who was behind her.

"Did I say anything?"

She only raised her eyebrow in response, a gesture to which he mimicked in response.

She opened the door to the cabin, led him in and then closed it. It was dark.

"I don't want him touching you."

"I'm hardly your property," she said, undoing the cape adorned with wolf fur she had been wearing and going over to the chest. "Besides," she said, scanning the contents, of which she had the choice of wearing a wine coloured velvet dress and a pink silk. "I'm only doing this so that he doesn't, say, throw us overboard. Which," she said, picking up the wine coloured velvet and closing the chest. "Is not a far off possibility, considering where you stand with him."

"I don't care, I'm just saying it's unladylike."

"Oh," she said, raising an eyebrow and nearing him, which was not hard to do in the stuffy small space of the cabin. "You don't care at all?"

"Considering it, you really are quite vain, princess..." he said, as their noses were nearly touching. She could feel his breath on her skin. His lips were dangerously close. She turned away and started changing into the velvet. Killian turned away and for a few minutes they were silent. Then, shouts from the deck implored them to come up again. As she opened the door, now clad in the dark velvet, she turned around.

"I envy you, you know," she said out of the blue.

"Why, princess?"

"The ocean... I love the idea of sailing the sea forever."

He stared at her, puzzled, brooding, but said nothing as they ascended the staircase out onto the deck.

The Princess was looking her usual radiant self that night, the star light slightly reflected in her shining eyes. In fact, Killian observed, this had been the first time that he'd seen her not looking so... beaten down. She looked fresh and alive and happy. He wondered how she managed it, after the curse, losing Philip, everything. He thought her a wondrous, magical anomaly, and at the same time despised her. He felt the wind growing stronger as the clouds above the ships started gathering, blocking compleatly the light of the moon overhead with the sound of thunder far off. He looked at the blackening water under him, and felt the wood under his hands, blood surging into his veins with a new found vitality, and in that split second as the the sound of thunder intensified and broke the skies with a new cry, that he'd trade anything to have that freedom again. The surge of the water under the vessel, the feeling of wind on his face. Without it he would be lost. And he knew exactly what he needed to trade for his freedom. He approached Blackbeard at the table, laughing and drinking, the girl next to him of course, and pulled him up leading him to the edges of the ship where they could not be overheard.

"W-what is it?" said the slightly drunken Captain.

"If I tell you who the Princess is, I mean who she's the daughter of, will that be considered useful information?"

"You mean if it'll get you your ship back? Depends."

"If I tell you," Hook said, adamant. "Will you lead me to my ship?"

"Like I give a fuck who she's the daughter of."

"I think you will. I think it'll give you a chance for that revenge you've been waiting so many years for."

"What is it?" said the drunken pirate, looking more and more annoyed by the minute. "I don't have time for puzzles, I don't have time for games, so tell me what you're bloody going to tell me, or _fuck off."_

Killian swallowed, and looked the Captain straight in the eyes, the words stuck in his throat and his tongue unsure of how to utter them.

"She's Amelia's daughter." He stammered, fast.

Silence. The sound of thunder was closer now, and a few raindrops landed on the deck. The man in front of him looked lost, his eyes lost all expression as he started wordlessly at the dark abyss of the waves which were gaining momentum by the second.

"You mean to tell me..." he said, still not looking at Killian Jones. But there was only one thing that interested Killian Jones now.

"Will you lead me to my ship?"

"You mean to tell me-"

"Will you lead me to my ship?"

"That she's the daughter of the bitch-"

"Will you-"

"Granddaughter of that fishwife _whore-"_

"-lead me to my ship?"

"Daughter of that withering man boy?!"

Blackbeard looked up, but it was not pain or rage that were painted on his face, but amusement. His whole face lit up and a wide grin from ear to ear spread across his face with the promise of revenge. He looked towards Aurora.

"I can assure you, Captain," He said, now quite calm. "That is more than enough to get your ship back."

Exasperated, Killian Jones breathed out a sigh of relief. But it was not the ship that the other pirate was concerned with now. A gleeful smile painted on his face, he beckoned the girl to him.

"Aurora, Aurora, come here my child."

The girl rose and came over to them, throwing a glance at him. He backed away a few feet.

"Barbarossa, we'll need you too." came the order, and the young pirate rose from his seat gingerly.

"Yes, sir?" he said.

"Barbarossa, it seems I feel a westerly wind rising."

"But the wind is easterly-"

"Wrong, you fool! It's a _westerly _wind." Said the Captain pointedly. "You know what to do during a _westerly _wind, do you not?"

"I'm not sure I-"

"_Westerly, my boy, westerly. _How many times do I have to repeat, _westerly. _I taught you what to do during a _westerly _wind did I not?"

"I-" the boy looked perplexed.

"Well then go and do it."

The boy rushed off to the opposite side of the ship, where he started turning a cog.

"Now, my dear child, I want you to tell me _all _about yourself, do you understand?" The question was directed at Aurora, whose smile faltered a bit.

"I- I told you everything about myself, sire, do you not remember?"

"Ah, but you told me lies." said Blackbeard quite calmly, staring at her straight on. "Dirty, filthy little lies." He said, looking upwards into the rising storm, each word articulated so much it might have been a bullet. "Dirty, filthy, little lies." He repeated.

"I assure you, sire, I told you the truth-" she looked flustered, looking over at Killian for help. A hand smacked her on the cheek, turning it bright red.

"Now, that's quite enough-" began Killian.

"Quite enough, is it? You're the one who told me, so you're not really the honorable one here."

"Told you what?" Aurora said, her voice with a small tinge of fear in it. She turned her head round to face him slowly "Killian?"

"Killian?" Mimicked Blackbeard, laughing heartily along. "Killian? You are a dumb girl, you know that? Thinking your precious pirate is really a prince in shining armour."

He laughed, and laughing took her face, planting his lips on hers, his rough hands cradling her and touching her breasts, his teeth biting into her lips. She attempted to push him away but it was no good. He was stronger. Finally, he withdrew his lips.

"Now, darling, will you tell us the truth, or not?"

"I- I told you."

"Dirty, filthy little lies."

"No, they weren't. I swear."

"Oh," said Blackbeard, looking intently at her and laughing, his face becoming more maniac by the second. "You _swear? _On what? Your life?"

And laughing, he pushed her through the crowd of pirates towards the contraption that Killian had been avoiding looking at, for he suspected (he _knew_) what it was. It would have been a lie for him to say he had not seen this coming, but it was a lie he was contented to repeat to himself. After all, all she was was a girl who was too good for him. He'd done far worse things. It was easy, it _got _easy to become indifferent, yet never it had been easy to forget. The rain was pouring good and hard now, as he watched her amongst the pirates, each pushing her towards the plank, her hair and dress wet, her eyes watery. But she would not cry, he knew that. She was too strong to cry. She had enough pride not to cry.

"Killian-" she screamed out his name amongst the crowd, almost pleadingly. "Killian-"

"Now," said Blackbeard, emerging at the head of the crew. "I want two things. I want my dress back."

Wolf whistles arose from the crowd.

"...And I want to throw you overboard."

Stamping.

"But first, I want my crew to decide, which first."

Chants of "the dress, the dress," filled the air, and the Captain smiled.

"We must give the public what it wants, don't we darling?"

She only stared him in the eyes and took off the velvet dress, throwing it to him, as she was left with only the rain soaked chemise. Wolf whistles again. She was not scared now, only angry.

"Killian," she screamed over the whistles and shouts. "What did you tell him?" Her eyes were as raging as the storm overhead. "What the _fuck _did you tell them?"

He did not respond.

"Killian Jones!" Her voice was almost a screech, and she looked like a madwoman. Her wet hair all over the place, her eyes flaming.

"On to the plant, darling," said Blackbeard. "You'll pay for what your mother did to me. That filthy, treacherous whore. You know, I've been awaiting for this day with great anticipation. I might as well throw both of you of. But then, that would infringe the agreement that I made with our dear Captain Hook here-"

"Agreement?!" she shouted, as Blackbeard withdrew his sword and pointed it at her stomach, beckoning her further and further onto the wooden plant. The thunder roared ahead, the wood beneath her bare feet was slippery. The crew were still cheering and wolf whistling.

"And you see," explained Blackbeard. "I'm a man of my word. Unlike your mother. Or your precious little-"

"Killian Jones!" she shouted over the thunder, the crew and the captain himself. "You'll pay for this, do you hear? You'll pay for this."

He was silent, a shout of "Aurora!" somehow stuck in the back of his throat. She was just a filthy girl, a filthy, flighty little girl.

Blackbeard laughed, and the thunder joined him. There was no more plant left to walk. She looked at the deep waves beneath her. The Captain stared into her eyes, and somehow, for a split second, his expression softened. But it must have been an illusion, for he smiled his horrible smile again and said, quietly but clearly: "Goodbye Princess." His sword moved an inch, and her feet with it. She stammered, she slipped, and then she fell into the abyss of the dark waves. For a few seconds her chemise could be seen floating in the dark depths of the sea. And then, she had gone under and the strangled cry of "Aurora!" filled the air as the storm raged above them.


	8. The Fish Wife

_Hi! I'm so awfully sorry I haven't uploaded in such a long time. I saw one comment on youtube lamenting the fact and I was like "No! I can't let my beautiful readers down! So I finally finished writing this chapter. Which brings me to the next thing: sorry about the chapter. No Hook/Aurora here. It's a bit shabby, but I couldn't brood on it forever. Speaking of youtube, the wonderful Tania ( .com) made a wonderful video for this fic. watch?feature=player_embedded&v=_YzHQIA3F0k Holy Shit Gurl! That is some talent. Which makes me especially sorry for this chapter. _

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_Mer - Maid - A fictitious or mythical half human sea creature with the head and trunk of a woman and the tail of a fish. _

They came in the middle of the night, fishing for men's souls, armoured with nothing but a sweet song. Some said that death by such a creature was one of the most beautiful deaths imaginable. But such stories circled only within packs of survivors, for a man who had suffered such a fate as cruel laugh at such folly. They travelled in packs, their beautiful glittering tails parting the water, and they would emerge out of it for a hour at most, but it was an hour the men on board a ship would most certainly not forget. They were not women, but cold and lifeless scheming demons. But their white skin glistened in the moonlight, showing off their perfectly rounded breasts, intricate hands, long hair of colors as vivid as precious stones; rubies, onyx, gold. Their lips were fresh and succulent as blossoming summer fruit. But it was the eyes that one had to fear the most, for when one saw they eyes, the being changed before you into a hungry, demonic creature. But the eyes kept the solider enraptured, and though he saw the transformation he was powerless to free himself from the ice gold claws that dragged him to the bottom of the ocean, where not even the moonlight saw fit to greet. Then, the stone cold and hard lips touched the sailor's and he was powerless to do anything. Nobody can hear screams from beneath the ocean.

Killian Jones knew this from experience, long nights spent locked in jail cells for his own safety from the song that turned into eventual screeches that reminded you of all the regrets you had in life, which bought out the inner voices present in the back of your head and only made them more vicious. And whilst he was sure, almost a hundred percent, that everything was fine, he could not help but call out to Blackbeard at the hull to hurry the vessel up, to which the absent minded Captain would reply with a grunt, but would fail to increase the speed of the ship by even a notch. The worry grew in the back of his head. The sea had been still, still and lifeless, there had been no wind, no nothing, heat had scorched their skin. Just black clouds drawing closer and closer together above them. It had been three days. Three days of drinking himself sick trying to forget and calling out ever five minutes to hurry up, as well as trying, without any success, to convince Barbarossa to tell him the exact location of the Jolly Roger. Speaking of, Barbarossa was in a bad way himself. Having exacted his revenge, he no longer seemed to care, and roamed the deck with a absent minded smile on his face, a bottle of rum in his hand. His motto seemed to be: "The fucks I give, Hook, the fucks I give." Mostly, Killian Jones had spent the days in the darkness of his and the late Aurora's cabin, thinking or trying to do all in his power to stop himself from doing so. The girl was dead. He was getting his ship back. The girl was dead. He was getting his ship back. The girl was dead... The caress of the ocean against the softness of her touch. The dark blue abyss of the sea against her bright shining eyes. He had, through experience again, learnt to forget. He had forgotten and forgiven himself everything, except Milah. You just drank until you didn't feel, and you stopped thinking until your emotions were numbed to a point where they were a glacier. He didn't need the girl.

The sky above them was getting darker and darker, but it was not that that alarmed Killian Jones, presently sitting on the steps, watching the ocean. No, it was the wind, the strong cold wind that picked up seemingly out of nowhere, appearing as suddenly as the scorching heat of the sun had gone and there was a shiver going through his skin.

"Blackbeard, speed up!" He called trying to hide his desperation.

"Ah, go fuck yourself." Came the slurred reply. "Don't you have a deal with her anyway?"

"You know how she is, you blithering twat."

"Aye, I know how she is. But you know how she is better than anyone. In fact," Blackbeard pretended to be thinking. "It would be quite weird if you'd fucked the granddaughter as well?"

"Can you-"

"But then I suppose you'd have a full set."

"Just try to go faster."

"Go fuck yourself."

The wind picked up faster and colder, and the ship which had almost glided through the ocean those last three days started bumping along the waves; so suddenly violent and gushing. Killian approached the side of the ship and gingerly looked out. The water looked violent and unforgiving, but otherwise there was no need to assume that there would be anything uncharacteristic for a normal sea storm. Then, a glimpse of gold caught his eye (his eyes were particularly skilled at catching out gold) and he knew that whilst it may have been a mistake, that he was not taking chances.

"Barbarossa," he yelled loudly against the sound of the wind and the waves. "We need another sail up, we need to go faster!"

"Barbarossa, who is the Captain?" Came the reply from the other side of the vessel.

"For God's sake, Blackbeard, are you sailing deliberately towards our death?" Hook said, exasperated, the raindrops falling now heavily on his face. "Try to find land, get away from here, you know what this means."

"Do I?" Laughed the Captain.

"You executed her granddaughter! Do you know what this means?"

"I know it means we have full coverage, with you on board."

"No!" Shouted Hook, his voice growing hoarse along with his desperation. "You don't! You know her!"

But the Captain did not reply and instead looking ahead into the distance with a look on his face that was hard to read. It was not of surrender, but of triumph over the battle with the sea he was so clearly losing. The winds were rising and rising seeing no end to how fast they could go and with them the waves rose to greater heights. Killian Jones looked over the edge of the vessel once more and sure enough, where there had been a glimpse of gold now glistened a rainbow. A crimson tail, turquoise, a shining mass of bright red hair, gold hair, black hair, the sharp edges of tridents. The men joined him and watched enraptured, but he knew better than to linger on for a second longer. He marched up to Blackbeard and made ready for one more plea.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked, his face rain soaked and blue from the cold. "I know you, you're not stupid, Blackbeard."

The Captain looked on ahead, a mysterious yet maniac smile on his lips.

"Why?!" Killian Jones demanded adamantly. "Why?!"

"They say it's one of the most beautiful deaths imaginable." Said the Captain, not looking at anything in particular but the horizon.

"Aye." It was agreed on that death by a Siren, by a Mermaid, was one of the most beautiful deaths imaginable. But it was also the most haunting.

"Aye." Blackbeard echoed him.

There was little time left now. The men were leaning over the bannisters as the Sirens had began their song.

"Get away, you fools, get away!" He shouted, but little good it did them. They circled the ship until it was surrounded with beautiful, fresh maiden faces, their wet virginal skin glistening in the moonlight, and their ethereal voices harmonized together in one song. A death march. Fingers on his ears now, the last defense he could think of he ran downstairs, into his cabin, onto his bed, and lay there powerless, his head cushioned, muttering to himself loudly. "The girl is dead. You've got the ship. The girl is dead. You've got the ship."

It did not stop him hearing the strangled and pleading cries of the men. They were fools, deserving of the fate they met. But there was another sound that mortified him more. Boom. A sound surrounded him. Boom. Cracks began to show in the wood. Boom. Boom. Boom. Then words, but not ones to the songs.

_You can't hide from us, Captain Hook. _

The room was slowly filling up with water, water seeping from the cracks that only seemed to get bigger. Boom. Boom. Boom.

_You can't hide from us. _

Wading through the water and frantically running upstairs he heard the screams of Blackbeard and his crew, but somehow he did not hear the song of the sirens as it normally came. Only their chanting became louder. No music, no melody, just a haunting chant vibrating inside his head.

_You can't hide from us. _

He discovered an empty deck, the whisperings of the cold wind were the only thing left behind. The water underneath him was filled with anger, hitting against the wood of the boat, sending sprinkles of mist around. The water was filling the ship quickly, and already the mast was looking uneven. He ran frantically to the boat, untied it with shaky sides cursing as the side hit his hand which began bleeding. He looked down into the dark ocean, which was nearing closer and closer as the water filled up the sinking vessel he was on. The water on the deck was nearing his ankles, and the ship was tipping and tipping more frantically to one side. Getting into the boat and praying to the gods in which he did not believe, he let go of the rope as he saw the mast being immersed in the angered water from the life boat, which was now being tossed to and fro as the sea wished. Picking up the paddles he started rowing desperately, the only sober thought in his mind was to get away from the wretched place as possible. It was impossible; the wood was pounding hard on him and the vessel, and whichever way he rowed, the little boat was subject to the whims of the sea. He would row right, the waves would fall left. He would row east, and ultimately the current carried him west. The storm was unforgiving. The waves were falling and falling, getting larger and larger their Whoosh getting more menacing and more dangerous to him by the second. They toyed with him, throwing the helpless sea Captain to and fro, throwing themselves over the boat but just enough that he could recover, their cold tongues licking him mercilessly.

Until all he saw was the cold blue rising above him. Then nothing but the cold and the dark. It only lasted a second, a few maybe, but when he came to himself he felt he had been awoken from a deep sleep.

"Hello, Hook."

He looked up and saw a pair of magnificent green eyes, the owner of which was sitting opposite him, clad in a dry silk blue cloth. Her hair was a deep, rich red and her skin glowed slightly in the now emerging moonlight both qualities which gave her an erethral, goddess-like glow. But it was her eyes, glimmering green and vengeful, and her deep red lips curved into a slightly mocking smile that reminded Hook of her true character. He looked at the creature sitting opposite him and said nothing. Around the boat, he noticed, others had begun to gather, the tops of their deadly tridents just visible above the now deathly still water. The moon reemerged illuminating the gleaming glow in their skin and their eyes. The creature's voice rose again, a lilt with a serpent-like menace to it.

"I said, hello Hook."

"Fuck you, Ariel."

A pointed expression. A mermaid hissed and some withdrew their tridents from the water.

"Good evening, Ariel." He muttered the correction through gritted teeth. The mermaid's tridents sank back into the water, ready to attack if he did not cooperate.

"That's more like it, Captain." The mermaid studied him carefully with a smirk on her face. "I'm not even going to tell you what you did wrong, am I?"

He stared back defiantly, but dared not contradict her. It would be a waste of time anyhow, for she was right.

"I thought we had a deal." He said instead.

"We did." She agreed. "But I did not see why it was beneficial for me to keep up my end of it."

A silence as he tried to figure out what to say. He couldn't exactly chastise her for lack of loyalty or honour. Firstly, because it would be vastly hypocritical to point out qualities which he was most known for himself. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, was because he was at her mercy, and whilst he knew the sea witch appeared to like the casual jibes and jousts she was incredibly proud. One false move and he would be impaled on the trident spikes the one closest to him was holding. There was speculation with other people, other creatures, but never with Ariel. She was definite and deadly.

"If you can afford to not hold up your parts of the deals you make, affairs must be biding well." He replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I can't complain," she said, looking past him. "For you, however..." She broke off, gesturing to his soaking clothes and the fragile little boat they were situated on. "I wish I could say the same. You've no vessel or a crew."

"Still got my charming self, though."

The beautiful creature leaned in and cocked her head slightly, her hand going to his chin, her breath feeling cool on his lips.

"Don't count on it." She whispered as the corners of her mouth rose and she leaned back down again, her cool and calculating eyes resting on him. "You're at my mercy now, Hook-"

"I was always-"

She laughed again. "Don't pull that card on me. There was a time when I couldn't afford to make such gestures, but that time has passed long ago. And now you're here, as all your hopes of getting your precious ship back have sunk with Blackbeard himself. In fact, one might say I was doing you a favour, getting rid of your enemy in one clean stroke. It's something I refused to do before."

This time, it was his turn to laugh. "Yes, next thing you'll be telling me that you've got the Jolly Roger right around the corner."

"Don't interrupt me," She said, the whites of her eyes glistening for a spilt second in the moonlight. The mermaid next to him pointed her trident again, this time so close he could see the perfectly pointed sharp ends. "As I was saying," Ariel carried on her tale, smirking slightly. "Now you're here, compleatly at my mercy. Why?" She leaned in expectantly. "Tell me." The whisper was almost inaudible.

"I was trying to catch Rumple-"

"Spare me the details of that particular endeavor." She leaned over the boat and whispered something to the most ferocious mermaid, and they both broke out in chilling laughter. She carried on talking to her maids, this time louder. "And then I was told about this charm that could get me to the other world and then I fucked it up," she was saying in a mocking low tone. "And then I ended up tied up to a tree. The most ferocious pirate sailing the seven seas, really," she laughed. "Spare me the details, actually. Just start on how you ended up on our dear unfortunately deceased friend's Blackbeard's ship, if you please."

"I was sailing down from the forest when we landed in the ocean... and then he hauled me on to his boat. And said he would show me to the Jolly Roger. And then you drowned him."

"Oh no," she said, appearing aghast. "I would never," her heart was now on her chest and her head thrown back dramatically, her eyes theatrically wide open. "I would never drown a man. No, no, no, no Hook, you are mistaken. Blackbeard chose his own fate."

He tried to contradict her, but the last image of Blackbeard came to him as his last words simultaneously echoed in his head. It's the most beautiful death you'll ever know, isn't it? He was sure, if Ariel's intention was murder, that it would not be beautiful. Most likely she lured him away to ensure more pain and agony than he would have suffered naturally. He looked at her and asked the most simple yet pressing question on his mind.

"Why?"

She smiled at him with a small gleam in her green eye. "You know why. You haven't told me the full story-"

"Because you didn't let me."

"Oh no, Hook, that's not why at all. I know what happens in all the waters in the kingdom." She raised her eyebrow at him knowingly, leaving a pause for the princess he'd neglected to mention. "Mull that over, will you?" She said, her voice lingering, savouring the sweet taste of victory.

"I don't imagine I know what you're talking about."

"Let me help you imagine, Captain." Her delicate fingers stroked the surface of the cool water. "Why did Blackbeard just... lead you to the Jolly Roger, just like that?"

"Fine," he said, "Stop... circling the subject, will you? I had her on board, and he made her walk the plank. Obviously. What was I supposed to do?! Like you've already mentioned, I had no ship, no crew."

"Except if it weren't for you, she would have never walked the plank at all." The creature said this forcefully, but her eyes peered into his more carefully, as if trying to find something. "I know everything that happens around these waters." She said, but this time not with the sweet smile, but rather a studious observation, as if she were tying facts together.

"So you know I gave her away. You killed the actual perpetrator, and you obviously have plans for me. Unless," it was him who leaned in this time, "Your charming song doesn't work on me anymore. You know, usually the effects are a lot more... dulling." He grinned. "Funny, eh?"

"Yes, funny," she agreed. "Funny you still entertain the notion that you're some kind of golden boy. You're not. I control everything and I know everything." She whispered and there was an air of menace to her voice, each word falling from her lips like a cold, shiny pearl.

"And what is that?"

But the only answer he got was the cracking of the wood underneath him, the coldness of the sea and Ariel's cold and cruel laugh.


End file.
